


New Beginnings in the Past

by AdrianExists



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anxiety, Cutting, Death, Depression, Hurt, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, The plague, Violence, Vomiting, War, tags to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 92,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianExists/pseuds/AdrianExists
Summary: The Apprentice is gone. Lucio has returned, but he's not as he was.Updates every 2+ weeks!(Important! This fic will (eventually) have a side part for the more... explicit parts. This itself will remain Mature.)
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 150





	1. For Starters

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Arcana fic! I've already dropped $120 on this fucking game. No, I have no soul. Anyways. Thank you to my amazing beta readers.
> 
> Something I feel I need to say up front. I don't view the Devil as only being aware of negative and destructive thoughts. I view it as also different sides of abuse. Upright is external abuse, aka, your typical abuse (physical, emotional, etc). Reversed, however, is internal abuse, or self-harm. So, in this, Lucio's the Reversed Devil, so this will delve into some really depressing shit in later chapters. I'm so sorry before hand.
> 
> Also, first fic in two years! What the actual fuck :D

Nearly six months ago, the Apprentice had delved into the Devil’s Realm. They hadn’t returned, but Lucio had, to no one’s enjoyment. Especially, surprisingly, Lucio’s.

Whatever had happened in the Devil’s Realm, it’d totally broken the cycle of abuse he’d been trapped in. But the cost seemed too much, even by Lucio’s standards, leaving him shaky and very wary the first few nights he’d been back in the living world.

Rumors had easily flown from the Palace, with everyone being aware of his resurrection within the first two days, leaving many of Vesuvia scared. Was Lucio back to harm them? To help them? There were accusations of witchcraft, and far too many people wanted to see Lucio hang.

It took a few months, but finally, they saw reason. Nadia had seen to it personally, having many public speeches and calming the few riots that sprouted up. Lucio  _ had _ died due to the plague, which was a punishment enough, but now he had no title, no claim, no nothing. All he owned as Count was already passed onto Nadia. What little she  _ did _ allow him, he cherished deeply. All he’d really needed were his dogs and his arm, and she’d been more than kind enough to grant him that.

Now, after those few months, he was honestly  _ trying _ to be a good person, and it was  _ heartbreaking _ to see the attempts. He never expected Muriel to forgive him, but still paid him monthly in reparations, and occasionally had his dogs taken to him for check ups. Asra was given the shop and had it upgraded, and always stocked with whatever he needed. Julian was given back his medical license and he was allowed to own multiple hospitals, with the main one being in the Palace itself. Nadia and Portia were fine off enough, though Lucio still insisted he raise the staff’s pay. And all of this was out of his own wallet, none of what the Palace or Nadia brought in, despite their insistence.

By the end of the first month post acceptance, he was running ragged, in every which way. Which led to where they were now.

Julian was sat stiffly in an all too grand chair, arms crossed. His coats were shed over the back of it, and his eye patch was off. He watched through slitted eyes a pacing Lucio, who was making dramatic movements with his arms.

“... and we  _ still _ don't have enough money for next month!” The ex-Count seethed, balling his hands into fists and huffing into air, his sleep clothes fluttering around him. “I’m going to go insane! And for what?! A populace that doesn’t appreciate anything I’m doing?!”

Julian huffed, rolling his eyes and sitting back more comfortably into the chair. “ _ That’s _ what you’re getting hung up about?”

Lucio rolled his eyes. “No, of course not, it’s just…” He sighed heavily, stopping his pacing and looking wistfully off to the side. “I’m  _ trying _ to be a good person, and it feels like it’s never enough.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

Lucio did a shrugging gesture, walking over to his bed and sitting down with a huff. He rested his chin on a hand, and pouted a little, looking at Julian. “I’m trying to atone for the shit I’ve done in the past, and it just… it feels like it’s never enough.” He looked out the window across from him, melancholy seeping across his features.

_ That _ was an emotion Julian still wasn’t used to seeing. Sadness, frustration, anger at only himself… Lucio hadn’t really opened to anyone  _ but _ him. When he asked why, Lucio had just shrugged and given him an unconfident smirk and had said something along the lines of, “You’re the only one I can trust that I have some history with.”

Julian felt distantly  _ bad _ for the man. From what Lucio’d told him, he was lucky to be alive. His mother had tried to kill him, he’d failed  _ multiple _ pacts, and now was re-alive (undead?). Julian knew that Lucio was  _ dying _ inside, 

Not when the Apprentice could be there in a place.

Volta had come to Asra (and then Asra came to Julian) about Lucio and his nightmares. Apparently, she’d hear him screaming some nights, sobbing about his past actions. She could never wake him, afraid of his wrath, and had sought out Asra to help her “master”. Asra had shrugged off helping Lucio, doing nothing about his dreams, claiming that he’d, “earned them for all he cared.”

Julian… wasn’t as cruel as that.

Yes, while Lucio had been far more cruel to him (shoving a beetle down his throat in a plague inspired rage, shouting horrible things at him, throwing far too many trays and food at him), Julian hadn’t been able to keep the rage going. His hatred had faded eventually, and he supposed a lot of it had come from the stress of the plague. Since Lucio’s return, and his attempt to become a better person, he’s hatred had died a quick and painless death. Besides, all of that was  _ then _ and this was the  _ now _ .

And in the  _ now _ , Lucio looked about five seconds away from walking off the edge of the balcony and ending it all. The blonde stared longingly at the large glass doors.

Julian sighed as he stood, stretching for a second as his back popped. Lucio looked at him warily, probably afraid that he’d run away or something. Instead, the doctor just walked over to his bed and sat down beside him, hunching over slightly so he could meet the blonde’s eyes. “You know Lucio, not  _ everyone _ hates you.”

The blonde man let out a bark of a sardonic laugh, rolling his eyes. “That’s a funny joke…”

“It’s true, though,” Julian fired back, sounding a lot more aggressive than he wanted to. “The Apprentice wouldn’t have given up their body to you unless they thought you were a good person. They would’ve just let you rot here as a ghost.” He gestured around the now clean and comforting room, looking almost as if the fire never touched it. Only a few black marks remained around the corners. “They wouldn’t want you to just waste it.”

Lucio shrugged, a sarcastic smile spread across his lips. “Then they should be  _ themselves _ .” It dropped, leaving him looking at the floor, a face that was too neutral to  _ actually _ be neutral. “Not’ve given it up to a has-been Count who can’t fully own up to his actions.”

Julian let out a deep, ragged sigh, his head falling back dramatically, his eyes rolling. “My  _ God _ , Lucio, you’re  _ still _ doing it.”

The blonde flinched, looking guilty. Another look that Julian wasn’t used to.  _ Guilt _ . Another far too common appearance nowadays. “I’m sorry, I’m working on it.”

Julian sighed heavily, letting his hand drift up to the other man’s short hair, starting to gently stroke it. “I know you are.”

They remained in silence for a while, Julian just petting Lucio’s hair. Eventually, Lucio’s breathing started to slow. He was leaning more and more weight onto his doctor, and it was becoming clear how exhausted he was. Julian’d seen the dark circles under his eyes, getting deeper and deeper, fear and worry staining his everyday life.

For a man Julian’d near hated for a while, he’d also warmed up the fastest to Lucio. And now, that was somewhat paying off. Lucio never went to anyone else about his issues. Portia was “allowed” to bring him food and drink every day and night, but whenever she’d try to give advice or offers, he’d wave her off. Not in the way he did before, apparently, as he’d brush off any help because he felt it was his “penance for his crimes”. Something rather worrisome.

Julian hadn’t even realized that Lucio had fallen asleep, he was so deep in thought. But the snores and soft murmurs of distant sleep talking alerted him to it. He chuckled as he gently set the ex-Count down on the bed, making sure he was tucked in. He sat on the side of the bed, gently petting Lucio’s hair, still. Watching him sleep. He twirled a bit of bright blonde hair around his finger, feeling the soft strands.

He sat there for what was probably longer than should be, softly watching Lucio. He should’ve left half an hour ago, but he couldn’t stop watching him sleep. He guessed because the last time he saw the Count asleep, he was in the throes of plague, and it was unsure if he’d even survive the night, so seeing him calm and not in pain wasn’t normal for him. After a little bit longer, just as he started to stand up to leave, Lucio hissed, throwing out his arms and latching onto Julian’s hips like they were his life line. “No, don’t leave,” he mumbled pitifully, sounding like he was in pain. “Don’t leave me again…”

Julian sighed heavily, brushing away some stray hairs. “I gotta leave, Lucio,” he chuckled, feeling a little delight, thinking that Lucio was awake. Until the Count thrashed, kicking the covers and sheets tighter around his legs, face screwed up into one of terror and anguish.  _ Nightmare _ , his mind supplied.

A choked sob broke through, sounding almost nothing like Lucio. “Please,  _ stop _ ,” he whispered, gripping onto Julian’s hips tighter. “No more…”

Julian returned to petting the blonde’s hair, a little startled at the sharp jerk of Lucio attempting to get away. It came with a sniffle, and a bubbling sob. “ _ Please _ , no more…”

Julian paused for a moment, before sitting back down quietly. Lucio practically dragged himself into the red-head’s lap, nose pressed tightly against his hip, arms fully wrapped around his hips and waist, and his legs (futily) attempting to wrap around his own. He was in nearly a perfect ball, and his eyes were starting to leak tears.

Julian could only watch as Lucio’s sobs started to get worse, the man curling into tighter and tighter of a ball as the night continued on. It eventually got so bad, however, that Lucio was putting bruises into Julian’s hips, and Julian had to say enough. “Lucio, c’mon, wake up…”

He gently started to attempt to wake the Count up, only to get a horrifically loud wail. Like a Banshee. Julian flinched. Lucio’s face was fully contorted now, and he was begging with some force, “No, let me  _ go _ , stop! It hurts!  _ Please! LET ME GO, GODS PLEASE LET ME GO-! _ ”

“Lucio! Wake up!” Julian demanded, starting to shake the blonde. This didn’t work at all. Julian sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, before grabbing both the Count’s shoulders, putting him above Lucio. He shook the other man almost violently, with a sharp bark of, “Lucio!”

This was not a good idea. Lucio’s eyes flew open, glazed and unfocused. He rose up with a roar, hands grabbing Julian’s upper arms, and flinging him to the side. He ended up poised over Julian’s lap, mechanical hand poised over him as if he still had the claws on (which he didn’t, thank the gods), seeing something not there. His brain seemed to realize that he didn’t have the claws on, and the robotic hand clenched into a fist, flesh hand on Julian’s throat now, holding him in place. He let out a roar as the mechanical hand started to punch downwards.

Julian held his arms over his face, bracing himself. “LUCIO!”

Only the punch never came.

Julian slowly lowered his arms, looking up. Lucio’s eyes had gone clear, and he seemed confused and more than a little horrified. “Jules?” He whispered, mechanical hand slowly dropping. “What… what’re you…?” He looked down, staring at where his hand was still on Julian’s throat, then at where he was sitting. “Why Am I on top of you?” He sounded bewildered.

“You were… attacking me,” Julian grunted, air still being constricted.

“I was… I was what?” Lucio sat back, pulling his hands away, and staring at them in horror. “I was… oh my gods…”

Julian gasped in sweet, sweet air, taking a second to regain his breath, closing his eyes. When he reopened them, Lucio was crying. It was silent, not entirely the ugly cry he normally did when he was  _ actually _ crying. It was like he was too shocked to fully comprehend what was going on.

Julian gently encouraged Lucio off of him, and the shorter man just kneeled there, still staring in terror at his hands. Julian stood at the side of the bed, watching Lucio. After a few moments of oppressive silence, Julian leaned over the bed to put a gentle hand on Lucio’s shoulder, with an equally gentle call of his name.

That seemed to break whatever spell was on him. Lucio sobbing, burying his face into his hands. Deep, full bodied sobs that wracked his frame so harshly, he was shuddering like a leaf in the wind. He eventually leaned forward, back arching harshly enough that Julian could count the vertebrae in his spine. He wept as though he was a widower who was attending his husband’s funeral. There were no words, only sobs.

Julian stood there, drawn back up and slightly away from the bed in shock, flabbergasted and unsure what to do. He’d  _ never _ seen Lucio like this. Ever. At all. Had he seen his obviously overdone tantrums to make people feel bad for him? Sure. Everyone had.  _ This _ , however, wasn’t that. It was such a deep and pure agony of emotion that it almost didn’t  _ feel _ like Lucio.

It  _ felt _ like Montag.

So, he went out on a limb. He leaned back over the bed, same gentle hand, and softly murmured, “Montag?”

It was almost like Lucio had been shot. He flinched back like he’d been burned, face twisted into one of sheer panic, and he scrambled to get away. The unseeing glaze in his eyes was back. “N-no, stay back…” The muttering was back, now even more indecipherable.

Julian slowly leaned, eventually crawling, over the bed, arm outstretched, caring look on his face.

Lucio kept backing up, apparently seeing something that  _ wasn’t _ Julian. He kept muttering and shaking, crawling backwards. Julian stretched out, trying to keep Lucio from falling…

To no avail.

The older man toppled backwards as there was no more bed, flailing and hitting the floor with a loud  _ thud _ .

Julian finished his crawl over to the side, and peered over. Lucio was sprawled there, grimacing with pain, legs still half up on the bed. “Lucio?” Julian asked, voice hushed, almost a whisper.

The blond laid there for a moment before his gray eyes fluttered open. Had this been any other circumstance, Lucio looking up at him with a tear stained face would’ve been endlessly attractive. However, due to it’s circumstance, it was somehow pitiful and terrifying all at once. “Jules…?”

“Yea?”

“Are you…” Lucio blinked a couple of times, shuffling a little to get his arms under him. “Are you really here?”

Julian nodded, expression softening. “I’m here,” he assured. “Do you need a hand?”

“... Please.”

Lucio took his hand, and Julian pulled him back up onto the bed, both men grunting as he did so. Julian let the momentum carry him back, sitting down on the (admittedly, very comfortable) bed.

Julian stared at Lucio, and Lucio stared at the bed. There was an almost uncomfortable silence in the air as they did nothing but breathe. Their legs occasionally brushed against each other, and Lucio would sometimes shift to get off a hip. After a while, Lucio broke the silence. “How’d you know my birth name?”

“Hmm?”

“Montag,” he clarified.

Julian hummed thoughtfully, leaning back and resting on his hands. “I  _ think _ I found it in old medical files. I remember running across it a couple of times and being like, “Who the fuck is this?””

They both chuckled at that before Julian continued. “So, I looked through some more files, found the similarities, and it clicked.” He shrugged, fixing his gaze on Lucio. “What made you abandon your former name?”

Lucio visibly stiffened, curling a little in on himself. “What, can’t a man not like his birth name?”

“No, that’s not what I was insinuating at all,” Julian assured, making an almost “stop” hand gesture. “You just don’t strike me as the type of guy to run away from things, that’s all.”

“Then you must not know what kind of  _ guy _ I am.”

It came out too fast to be a lie. And with Lucio’s stricken face, it clearly  _ wasn’t _ one at all. It was a painful, horrible truth. But now Lucio had fascinated him.

“What type of guy  _ are _ you then, Lucio Montag?”

Lucio huffed, and glared at the wall across from him for a moment, drawing his arms closer to him. He looked like he was debating yelling at Julian to leave. After a second, he sighed, any tension leaving his body. “My full name’s Lucio Montag Morgasson,” he admitted softly, arms flopping so his hands rested in his lap, eyes cast downwards. “I’m Morga Eirsdottir’s son, former Price of the Scourge of the South, and an absolute coward.”

His mouth curved upward into a sardonic smile. He let out a soft huff of laughter through his nose, shaking his head softly. “And there you go,” he said, voice cracking on unbidden tears. “There’s who I am…” There was an edge of bitterness on it, as if it dredged up all the bad memories of his past.

Julian stared at Lucio, surprised at the brutal honesty on display. He supposed that all of what he’d gone through had made him a (somewhat) better person. He swallowed, heavily, taking in the information that had just been dumped on him.

The silence returned, crueler than ever. Lucio just sat there, didn’t try to fill it as he normally would’ve. He looked awful, tired, anxious, depressed. Every single thing mentally wrong seemed to be on display on his face. His eyes were rimmed with red (and they got red fast too, it seemed to have been a left over side effect from the plague), his shoulders slumped, his makeup beyond saving, and his entire posture screaming “defeat”. Julian looked almost directly behind him, looking up at the portrait on the wall. How could  _ that _ man become  _ this _ one?

He must’ve been looking too long because Lucio followed his gaze. “... Yanno, Noddy was right,” he muttered, slowly drawing up his knees and wrapping his arms around them, pressing the lower half of his face against them. “I should just get rid of that…”

Julian was shocked out of his thoughts, gaze snapping back to the Count. “You wouldn’t, you  _ couldn’t! _ ” The last part came out a bit more squeaky than he liked.

Lucio shrugged. “It’s alright. It’s not exactly  _ me _ anymore, now is it?” The smirk he gave Julian was  _ almost _ correct. So close. But there was a sad edge to it that felt… wrong. The smirk fell as he looked back to the painting, letting out a soft sigh.

Their silence fell again, their breathing even and almost perfectly matched. It felt… natural, much as Julian was loath to admit it. He didn’t even react when Lucio crawled closer, and put a gentle hand on his chest. “Hey…”

“Hey.”

Lucio swallowed, and shrugged, looking unsure as he asked, “Do you… want to stay here for the night? It’s still a few hours ‘til morning.”

Julian blinked, processing, before letting out a sigh through his nose and looking at the ceiling, thinking. He hummed before bobbing his head. “Yea, sure, let me get comfy first.”

“Okay.”

Julian went over to the side of the bed, tugging his boots off, debating on his pants. He didn’t exactly pack sleep wear…

“Big dresser, top drawer on the right,” Lucio managed through a yawn, as if sensing his thoughts. “It’s a close enough size to do for the night…”

Julian changed quickly, and Lucio was right, the clothes  _ were _ comfortable. Actually, it seemed oversized for Lucio. Maybe he had an entire drawer for if people stayed over?  _ Or if clothes got torn _ , his mind supplied, and that was probably the most logical answer. When he turned back to the bed, Lucio was already under mostly fixed covers, watching him blearily.

Julian smiled softly, then returned to the bed, crawling under the covers with Lucio. The blonde hummed as he shimmied down, tugging the covers over his shoulders and under his chin. Julian chuckled as he joined him in fully laying on the bed. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was staring at Lucio, and once the blonde caught his gaze, he stared right back.

They sat like that for a while, just staring at each other. Eventually, Julian let a hand make its way across Lucio’s hip, and tugged the shorter man closer. Lucio came with little fuss, and they eventually slotted against each other, Lucio’s head tucked under Julian’s chin, and Julian’s arms around him, Lucio’s arms safely tucked between their bodies. Their legs were tangled underneath the bed sheets. Lucio hummed, the sound vibrating Julian’s throat and chest.

They laid there in silence for a little while, Julian feeling Lucio’s lashes occasionally blinking against his skin. A far more comfortable silence. “You know, Lucio,” Julian started, quietly, “all you have to do is ask.”

“I know.”

“Then ask.”

Lucio took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then released it. “Maybe tomorrow,” he replied before nuzzling deeper into Julian’s embrace. “It’s beddy-bye time right now…”

Julian snorted out some laughter. “” _ Beddy-bye time? _ ”” He parroted, no malice in his voice. “How old’re you? Five?”

Lucio shushed him snappily. “Bug me later…” The words were slurred.

Julian chuckled again, drawing Lucio in further. “Ok,” he acquiesced. “Ok.”

After a while, they eventually fell asleep.


	2. Friendly Reminders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! We've made it this far! I hope y'all like it, and are excited for Chapter 3. I'll be working on Chapters 4 and 5 probably this week, so I have a bit of a backlog so if I'm having a bad week, I can still get content out. I may also start doing TikTok lives? Just like, little vibe sessions. Who knows.

Julian woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open. His back was warmed from the sun streaming through large windows, and his front was warmed because of the body still pressed tightly against him. He looked down, his nose burying into the mussed up blonde hair below him. Lucio was still deep asleep, though now his arms were wrapped tightly against his waist. He was snoring softly, and his face was at peace. He looked content.

Julian chuckled, burying his nose deeper, pressing a soft kiss against his head. They laid there like that for a while, Julian watching Lucio’s slow breaths. He started to pet Lucio’s side, his eyelids starting to droop again.

Julian nearly fell asleep before Lucio took in a deep breath, slowly waking up. The smaller man yawned loudly, stretching up and  _ against _ Julian, arms wrapping ever so slightly tighter around his waist. “Mmm, go’d mornin’, Juul’z...” he mumbled against Julian’s chest, nose pressed tight against his sternum.

“Good morning.” Julian nuzzled against the top of Lucio’s head, hugging him gently. Lucio gave him a soft, sleepy chuckle in return. “Are you ready to get up?”

Lucio snuffled, grimacing at the idea of waking up, tucking himself deeper in Julian’s embrace. “No…” He hummed.

Julian snorted in amusement, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Of course you aren’t…” He started to slowly sit up, hoping that  _ him _ getting up would get  _ Lucio _ up. The blonde whined, wrapping his arms even tighter against Julian. Julian sighed heavily, amused. He wrapped his arms around Lucio and slowly brought them up.

Now with both of them sat up, Julian mostly awake, Lucio mostly asleep and looking around blearily, half glaring around the room, they realized just how late they’d been sleeping. “Mmf… Awakeness,” Lucio grumbled, leaning his head against Julian’s chest.

“Awakeness,” Julian agreed, still heavily amused, just as a knock came from the door. He turned to look at it, “Come in,” spilling from his lips before he could think of asking Lucio if it was alright.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Portia stuck her head in. The smells of freshly baked bread, fresh fruits, and some cheese wafted after her. “Hey, Asra said you didn’t return to the clinic by the shop, so I suspected you were still here.”

Julian shrugged in a good natured way, jostling Lucio, who grumped against his side. “Yea, I ended up sleeping here. Lucio needed me, so I was more than happy to help.” At Lucio burying his face deeper into his chest, Julian let himself lay his head on Lucio’s. It made it all appear a lot more domestic than he originally wanted, though he wasn’t exactly complaining, either.

Lucio mumbled something against his side, the sound of his voice vibrating Julian’s chest and arm. Portia cocked her head, soft look on her face. She turned around, dragging in a small, ornate silver cart. The top was a tray, filled with all sorts of fruits and breads and whatever else they’d smelled before, along with a giant pot of hot coffee and some warm tea. “What was that?” Portia asked, looking at her brother.

Lucio took in a deep breath, pulling himself up and away from Julian. He raised a finger, looking somewhat official and all sorts of stubborn as he said, in a haughty voice, “He stayed because I’m not fully well.” He made a swagger motion with his head, his signature smirk on his features, until his eyes caught sight of the cart. Once they did, his swagger dropped, along with his shoulders, and he gaped at the cart. “Is that food?”

Portia grinned, giving her brother a wink before directing her attention to the blonde. “What, all this?” She waved at the cart. “Maaaaybe.” She cocked her hip, playfully smiling at the two men. “I may give you some if you ask nicely.”

“Now.” Lucio leaned over Julian, crouching over his lap, eyes locked onto the food. He didn’t seem to really pay attention to the other two.

Julian gave Lucio a slightly disgusted look, a little annoyed that the man was acting like this. Portia, however, just tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. “Hmmm… I don’t think that was asked  _ nicely _ .”

Lucio, still staring at the food, swallowed heavily. He reached out, and his fingertips nearly touched the side of the tray when-

_ Smack. _

Lucio drew his hand back with a hissing whine, jolting back over Julian and sitting on his haunches. Portia waved the wooden spoon she’d hit him with at him, making the same face Mazelinka did whenever Julian would attempt to steal food with her around. She put her hand back on her hip, and raised a slow, deliberate eyebrow at him. “If you don’t be nice, I’ll give this all to Volta.”

Lucio’s already pale face went paler, before flushing a bright red. He seemed like he was debating with himself. After a moment, he seemed cowed into doing what Portia asked. “May I please have some food?” He asked, with the most spectacularly adorable pout. Julian, watching this all go down silently, nearly swooned.

Portia grinned and pushed the cart closer. “The top comes off, so you two can just move it onto the bed.” She also pulled out a couple of plates from below the tray, and set them on an unoccupied corner of the tray. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get you boys fed.”

It took a few moments, but they eventually got the tray set up. Portia promised to return soon, ducking out of the room and leaving them alone. Lucio was quick to devour some food, while Julian poured himself his first cup of coffee, snagging a croissant for himself. They sat for a while in silence, eating. After a few moments, and a lot of food scarffed down, Lucio sighed heavily, and sat up. “Alright, back to work.”

Julian sputtered, some of the contents of his third cup spilling out the cup. “You just got up!” This wasn’t the Lucio he knew. The Lucio from before would literally wait  _ hours _ after he woke up to work, sometimes not even going at all. Whatever had happened in the Devil’s Realm had entirely changed him, and one that Julian wasn’t quite sure was for the better.

Lucio shrugged, quickly crawling out of bed and walking over to his desk, a large, almost all dark wood thing that was built into the wall. He opened a small drawer and pulled out some papers, gathered a self-inking quill from his desk, and returned to Julian. “I’ve gotten used to working after not being up for a while.” He snagged a small cup of tea from the tray, starting to slowly sip on it. “I’m trying to run some aspects of the city from the background, and it’s surprisingly difficult.”

Julian peered at the papers Lucio was holding. It was taxes, mainly for the Palace and Nobles. Quite a lot of Vesuvian money was being wasted, unsurprisingly on wasteful things. Things that, undoubtedly, Nadia herself hadn’t even noticed. “That’s a  _ lot _ of money.”

Lucio let out a deep sigh, his free hand gesturing wildly before flopping onto the bed again. “I  _ know _ , it’s why I’m trying to  _ fix it _ ,” he snarled, aggravated. Julian sensed that it wasn’t at him, so he felt no worry. “‘Cause look here.” He pointed at something halfway down the page, and Julian had to lean over fully to read it.

_ Procurator Volta’s hoards have thousands, if not a couple million of gold stocked up in there. To attempt to tax it would be impossible. _

Lucio smacked the paper, frustrated. “And the others are like this too! “Too much of this to procure, too much of that to tax,” it’s fuckin’ frustratin’ and more than annoyin’!” He growled, hands curling into fists. “All I want is for the city to have more gold, and these fuckers are hoarding it all away!”

Julian put a gentle hand on Lucio’s shoulder. “Lucio? Lucio, you should calm down before you rip the page.”

Former Lucio would’ve raged at him about  _ daring _ to accuse  _ him _ of having a temper, and then ripped the paper, and then  _ somehow _ blaming in on Julian (most likely about how “clumsy and stupid he was”). Current Lucio turned, his face twisted into fury, teeth bared, and paused. Julian’s face was probably one of panic, mostly because he needed to be ready to run in case Lucio’s rage turned against him, as it had so many times before.

Whatever Lucio saw on his face made him pause, his expression falling. After a beat, he closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and swallowed. “You’re right. I need to calm down.” He took a few more seconds to breathe before returning his attention to the page. “I’m just not  _ sure _ how to convince the city to  _ tax them _ .” He tapped his chin, biting his lip, and looking vaguely confused at the papers. “It’s like they’re all paid off so they can get away with this corruption…”

As Lucio spoke, it slowly teetered off, his hand dropping, and his face going to one of understanding.

Julian understood none of it. “Uhhh… what?”

The blonde’s face broke out into a grin, and he pointed at Procurator Volta’s name again. “That’s it!” He yelled, joyous. “That’s what’s been wrong! The entire tax system’s corrupt!”

Julian gave an expression and hand gesture that said, “I still don’t get it, you stupid man.”

Lucio’s grin turned to Julian, his eyes wide and wild with joy. It was almost worrying how excited he was. “Ok, ok, look here.” He kept pointing to the spot on the page, and Julian returned his gaze to the words. “Read through some of the rest of them. What’s something you notice that’s off?”

Julian took the pages from Lucio’s hand. He squinted as he read, his brow furrowing as he kept going on. “Too much gold, too many items, too difficult to tax…!” He threw the papers back into his lap as he looked up and in shock directly in front of him. “They’re all corrupt! They’re using the amount of things they have to cover up how much they should be paying taxes!”

“- have to cover up how much they should be paying taxes!” Lucio finished with Julian. He hit Julian’s thigh with a fist gently, friendly, grinning and putting his weight on it so he could practically lean up against Julian. “Exactly! They’re using this excuse as a way to get free of taxes! There’s gotta be a loophole somewhere that allows them to do that!” Lucio pulled himself away, snagging the papers, and quickly looking through them all. After a second of scanning, and not seeing what he wanted, he leapt off of the bed and back to the desk, rummaging through his drawers.

“Oh… c’mon… where’s that tax code…?” He mumbled and muttered to himself as he searched, pulling open multiple drawers and cabinets, and ignoring whatever spilled out of them. After a few moments, he gave out a triumphant crow and held aloft a set of papers. He kicked the cabinet they were from shut, and returned to the bed. He sat criss-cross next to Julian, and pointed at the slightly worn pages. “ _ This _ is our old tax reform. I did it when I first got here.”

His finger trailed down, stopping at important parts, with Lucio adding on context. “See, most of this I didn’t  _ write _ , at least, not in this new version. It’s full of weird inconsistencies and things I didn’t even put in! I just wanted a nice, flat tax on the city, but the nobles didn’t. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I let  _ them _ write the taxes themselves.” He snorted, rolling his eyes at his past self. “That was, obviously, a bad choice. So!” He flipped through the pages, more and more inconsistencies being pointed out, and Lucio growing more and more annoyed. “Look at this! “If you have more than double what your previous house bore, you are free to be excused as you please”! What the actual  _ fuck _ does that  _ MEAN _ ?!” He screamed, anger flowing freely from his form.

He stood up, now starting to pace on the bed, hands going around him dramatically as he read off more and more stupid things hidden further into the document. “”If you’ve of happy means, you’re free to be.” Most of this is all  _ bullshit _ to get the upper class tax excused.” He finally stopped looking at the papers, and looked down at Julian, a vicious gleam in his eyes. “You know what that means?”

Julian swallowed, forcing himself not to flush at how utterly  _ excited _ Lucio looked. The man’s face was flushed and positively  _ glowing,  _ grin wide, and he looked honestly  _ happy _ , and not in a weird, “I’m only happy for me” way he used to be. “It means… you’re going to find a way to tax the rich?”

“It means I’m going to find a way to tax the rich,” Lucio confirmed, letting himself drop down to his knees, the bed and tray bouncing slightly. “Because just  _ imagine it _ , Jules. No more Flooded District. No more people being unable to afford schools. No more bad reaction times to infectious illnesses. No more being unable to keep this city  _ safe _ !” His grin grew wider and more wild. “We could even add in more funds for the arts and sciences! We could fix this city!” He threw the papers up over his head, grabbing Julian’s face and pulling it close.

Julian squeaked as he was drawn in close, nose to nose with the count, unable to move. He was sat there more than a bit awkwardly, with the tray still on his lap and Lucio trying to drag his upper half away. However, the image itself was… astounding.

Lucio looked over-joyed with the aspect of helping his city, and with the pages still falling slowly behind him, he looked almost like an angel. A very, very corrupt angel, with way too bright eyes, and far too perfect teeth.

Just how he liked it.

Julian couldn’t help himself as he tilted his head up so he could press the barest of a lingering kiss against the tip of Lucio’s nose, fully resting his head against the others after. They stared at each other, eyes searching one another. Lucio confused as to why Julian had even kissed him, and Julian hoping he hadn’t over stepped his lines. Just as the red-head was about to pull away, Lucio pulled him closer and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

For a single, dizzying moment, it felt like the entire world changed and faded. There wasn’t a single thing on either man’s mind, except maybe get closer. But the tray in the way (and now digging into Julian’s leg) reminded them where they were, who they were, and what they were doing.

They broke apart with a soft sigh, leaning their heads against each again right afterwards, eyes still closed, just enjoying breathing with one another. It was a soft, warm moment. After a moment, they opened their eyes, looked at each other, and started to chuckle.

“You want this to mean anything?” Julian asked warmly, hand coming to rest gently against one of Lucio’s thighs.

The blonde snorted softly, pressing his forehead tighter against Julian’s. “I’m ok with whatever,” he admitted in a soft giggle, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s shoulders.

Julian moved the tray to the side, and adjusted them both so they were actually able to hug and be close. After a few moments, they both pulled away around the same time. Lucio looked at the picture on the wall, his soft smile fading into a distant, slightly saddened frown. “Guess I’ve still got work to do,” he sighed, crawling out of the bed and walking into the bathroom. “I’m going to get ready, finish up that paperwork, and then go deal with the Courtiers.” He grimaced, already thinking of what Valerius was going to say. “They  _ really _ aren’t going to like what I’m going to say.”

Julian watched the other man, noticing how stiff his movements were now. The happiness and joy of just a few minutes ago were already so far in the past. His face was in a determined glare, and while his profile was beautiful like this, but it also so worrisome too. Julian’s own lips tugged down into a frown, already wanting Lucio to look like the beautiful, warrior angel he’d just seen a few seconds earlier. He’d get that another time. “Yea, they won’t.”

Lucio turned back to him, a pretty strained smile on his face. “Imma be ok, though, I’ve got you by my side, right?” There was an edge of panic to it, one that if Julian wasn’t so sure about Lucio he wouldn’t be able to quite place. He hoped it wasn’t much of anything to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe. Remember how most stories have those up and down moments in emotion? And how there's usually like, a decline and it just gets really depressing and shit? Yea, we're about to hit that. (:  
> Don't get too comfortable ~  
> (Also! Did you find the little Juulian meme I snuck in there?)  
> 
> 
> All of my social media is AdrianExists. I'm thinking about maybe making an Arcana server. Perchance. Maybe. We'll see.


	3. Insufferable Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio goes out for a night on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoot! Chapter 3! We're movin' right along. This is the longest chapter (so far), so I hope you enjoy it!

Lucio sat at the head of the large, dark oak table, rubbing his temples. Around him, the Courtiers, and occasionally Nadia, shouted and screamed, trying to talk over one another. It was giving him a migraine.

“I’m just saying that taxing the rich is stupid!” Valerius screamed, tendons in his neck taut, both hands flat on the table, leaning on it to get closer to Nadia’s face. “We’ve earned our pay!”

“Well we need to do something!” Nadia shouted back, looking like a pissed off lion, hair fuzzy and eyes narrowed, in a similar position as the Consul. “We can’t just keep hoarding it all to ourselves!”

The other five people in the room opened their mouths to start screaming some more when Lucio finally decided to step in. “ _ ENOUGH! _ ” He roared, standing up quickly and slamming his hands on the table.

It echoed around the room, like a clap of thunder, and the others went deathly silent. He looked around the room, everyone’s faces being shocked and a little frightened. Nadia’s eyes were as wide as her owl’s, Valerius’s face was one of pure shock, Volta looked a little sick and more than enough terrified, Vlastomil had actually  _ recoiled _ at Lucio’s shout, Valdemar had tilted themself back and away, eyes looking wild, and Vulgora’s face screamed “what the actual fuck”. Lucio had honestly forgotten how loud he could be, having been used to screaming and yelling over battlefields and through deep forests most of his life. It was odd to not have to be that loud anymore, and he supposed that being that loud in that size of room (smaller than the dining room but bigger than his quarters) would make his voice seem even louder.

He took in a deep breath, and swallowed down his rage. “Sit,” he ordered, with a pointed hand movement.

Six bodies sat in perfect time, six pairs of eyes locked onto him. Nadia seemed the most composed out of all of them, but then again, she wasn’t as excitable, nor as petty as the others. Her hands were clasped elegantly on the table, and she watched Lucio intently.

He sat down, leaning back, and doing a seemingly uninteresting wrist flick. “Now, I understand that for the rich, this doesn’t seem like a good thing-”

“It’s not,” Valerius attempted to interrupt, only to get a finger and a pointed glare from Lucio.

“- _ but, _ ” and he put an emphasis on the “t” sound, “this isn’t for the rich. This is for the good of the  _ city _ . The needs of the many, not the wants of the few.” He cast a firm look around the room, narrowing onto Volta and Vulgora in particular. Both Courtiers had the decency to look away and look embarrassed, Volta even going so far as to draw random shapes onto the wood.

After his gaze came to Nadia, it softened slightly. He knew she’d never do anything to harm the city. Truly, she cared about it, deeply. And he appreciated that. He swallowed heavily, before looking down the center of the table again. “In any case, we need to figure out what’ll be good for everyone involved. I would say… how about…” He scratched the back of his head, thinking.

Nadia, however, came to his support, piping up with a firm, “fifteen percent.”   
Lucio took a moment to ponder it, thinking. It  _ did _ sound decent enough. It’d be enough to help with payment of important infrastructure, plus, it wouldn’t take  _ too _ much away from the rich… It seemed the best solution. “We’ll go with fifteen percent. Flat tax.”

The others opened their mouths to argue, but Lucio waved a hand. “No. Enough. Conversation is done.” He stood up, and looked at Nadia firmly, a hand resting on top of hers gently. “Fifteen percent. You’ve my permission. And you can use my funds to fix up the system until we can get the rich taxed.”

Nadia nodded, a soft smile on her lips. She looked legitimately proud, and it took him aback. “Alright. Thank you, Lucio.”

The blonde nodded, grunting softly, trying not to let the small little flicker of adoration that made him marry her be known. “I’ve got a headache. I’ll be in my rooms.” He quickly stalked to the door, and let it creak shut behind him.

He stalked through the hallways, his feet taking him to his bedroom. He reached the door, and he stood there, hand outstretched, but he stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door and just… fall asleep. That didn’t speak to him.

He scowled at the floor, thinking. What  _ did _ he want? He wasn’t entirely sure himself, even as he finally convinced himself to push open the door and walk inside his room.

His dogs were laid on the bed, and upon him entering, their tails turned into white blurs from wagging. He smiled at them softly, walking over and petting them. They both let out microbarks and nuzzled into his hands, snuffling. He chuckled softly, his eyes flicking over to his closet. It was slightly open from where he’d let it close on it’s own this morning, having almost run late for his meeting. He stared at it for a few moments, the sleeves of his old mercenary clothes taunting him from beyond. He blinked at it, thinking. Sure, his arm would be a dead give away, but he could always just…  _ disguise _ it… And make his makeup harder to notice from his normal… smudge it more than normal…

He sat there, contemplating for a few moments, before standing up with a sigh. No, he was going to do this. He was going to get all “dressed up” (or dressed down?), and go out on the town. Make sure no one noticed him… And he had that temporary hair dye from a masquerade almost a decade ago (it was still safe to use, he hoped). He now had a battle plan, and he set it into action.

He closed his curtains, took off the pointy bits of his arm (which was, in all honesty, just plates of specially designed armor), and threw off his clothes. Once he was fully naked, he went into his bathroom, and delving into the depths of the tall cabinet to the left side of the room. In the very back, hidden by an obscene amount of other hair care products (he needed to get rid of some of those, dear god), was a small container. He pulled it out a triumphant smile, and looked at the pitch black container. It was short and squat, and pretty unassuming all things considered. It had a screw top, which mared the otherwise perfectly smooth surface.

He unscrewed it, and looked inside at the black, almost tar like appearance. He smirked, proud of himself, and dug some out onto his fingers. He grimaced at the feeling, as it was honestly a very thick slime, and he didn’t really like slimy things. However, he could ignore the feeling of it, and he didn’t really care that his hands would be stained, namely because it’d probably hide his metal hand better. He slicked the sludge through his hair, making sure every single strand was coated.

Once it was, and he was sure that it was evenly coated, he washed his hands, letting it set on his hair. He returned to his bedroom, and threw open his closet. His old mercenary clothes sat there, proud and pretty. He pulled it out, and set it on the bed, where the dogs sniffed at it for a second. “Don’t eat it,” he warned, giving them a point and sharp look, returning to the bathroom. He started pulling out old makeup, humming when he found something he wanted and grunting when he didn’t. The grunts mainly came from finding old makeup that had long since expired and couldn’t even be used, much to his chagrin. Once he had what he wanted (and what was good), he returned the bedroom and dropped it onto the vanity.

Once that was done, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was debating about finding a way to change his eye color, because his silver eyes were fairly… uncommon. Then again, the Devoraks had similar eyes, so… He could probably get away with it. Just change the hair color, style, and the makeup and he’d probably be fine. Oh, and hide his arm.

He flexed it, grimacing at it. He wished he still had his old, makeshift hand from the end of his merc days… It wasn’t as good as this one, but it was good for whenever he wanted to go out and hide from people. For now, though, he sat in his chair and waited for the dye to finish setting.

After nearly an hour of waiting, he got up and went to wash it all off in the shower (something he’d ran across in one of his travels and had come to be unable to live without). He watched as the black dye washed off, first turning the water pure black, then slowly fading into gray. After a few minutes of scrubbing and washing it out with soap multiple times, and the water mostly running clear, he pulled himself out, and rubbed himself dry. He shook out his hair, making sure it was mostly dry, before standing in front of the mirror. He stared at himself, towel over his hair, and he paused for a beat. He took in a deep breath, and let it drop.

The man that looked back at him had deep brown hair, and he barely looked anything like Lucio. Lucio gently pushed and prodded his hair, watching as it hung limply down. He looked somehow a lot younger already. He gave his signature, self-satisfied smile, and even now, it didn’t really seem like him. It seemed younger, and a bit more young-person, thinks-he-can-take-on-the-world sleazy instead of evil-count-who-wants-to-take-over-the-world sleazy. He pushed the last thought down, memories trying to burble their way to the surface. Overall, however, he was pleased with the results so far. He gave himself a little “nudge” with his hip and a cheeky air kiss, turning around and walking out into his bedroom.

His dogs were still laying on the bed, and their gazes lifted when he came into the room. Their tails started to return to being blurs as he approached the bed, looking the old clothes up and down. He bit his lip, worried they wouldn’t fit him at all, but took in a deep sigh, figuring this was the best he had. He sucked up a great deal of air, and before he could doubt himself anymore, he started to pull the clothes on.

They still fit him well, surprisingly, but they did give him away a little. He frowned at himself in his vanity’s mirror, not as happy with it as he’d thought he would be. He guessed the deep reds and sharp golds that he later added to accent it all was still pretty “Lucio”, as opposed to a young hot head blowing into town. He snorted at his reflection before delving back into his closet, going into the depths and pulling out some more black or dark brown items. Namely, an old leather chest plate and some shorter boots. The boots stopped below his knees (still heeled, thank you very much), and were fairly ornate. The leather was engraved with some lovely filigree, and the laces were made of a fine ribbon. It didn’t look quite as mercenary as he wanted. He grunted, throwing them somewhere into the room behind him, and let out a victorious crow as he pulled out a pair very similar. Instead of being ornate, they were boring. Once again, still heeled, and stopping below his knees, but the laces were woven and covered in a protective wax, with no special markings or details. They fit the outfit a lot better.

The chest plate was dark brown with black outlines, and had a segmented stomach, which allowed for more movement overall. It did well to accentuate his curves, instead of his brawn. Once it was all good and buckled on, he smirked at himself in the mirror, petting over his belly. For the first time since his revival, he was struck by just how pretty he was. Truly, he didn’t seem like the newly-re-alive count of Vesuvia, which was exactly the look he was going for.

Once the clothing was done and to a place he wanted it, he sat down with a huff at his vanity, and stared at himself in it’s mirror. Now, for makeup… He tapped a makeup brush against his jaw, thinking. “What to do…” he hummed to himself. After a few moments, he shrugged, taking some of the darkest makeup there, and setting to work.

He hadn’t contoured in years, and let alone to make himself look younger. He bit his lip, looking into the mirror, thinking. He wasn’t sure where to start, but he figured that if he could hide his (thankfully, very few wrinkles) he would be fine. And if he made his jaw less pronounced, or maybe added some stubble… He grinned at himself, pulling out some of the darker colors, and setting to work putting on subtle gradients of color and “hairs”. He pulled out some of the rarer shades, making the bags under his eyes look worse than they usually were.

He grinned at himself in the vanity mirror, taking a second to appreciate his makeup skills before giving his best, youthful flirty expression, complete with wink and stuck out tongue. He stood, pulled on whatever remained of his outfit, and gazed at himself in the full mirror.

If he didn’t know himself better, he’d say he looked like an entirely different person. Unless someone broke into wherever he ended up going  _ specifically searching for him _ , he wouldn’t be noticed. At all. His smirk grew into a grin, before a single, raging thought breaking through.  _ How was he going to escape? _ His grin fell into a frown, and he tapped his chin, thinking.

After a few moments, he looked at the corner of his room closest to the glass doors. There was a small, hidden button that led to a hidden hall that led out of the castle. Did he dare to open it…?

Dare he did, because he was over to the door in a flash, pressing the button and watching as the stone fell back a step and slid away. He smiled, though it was almost a sneer. It was very smug and proud of himself. He turned to his dogs, and pointed at them. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the bed. They wagged their tails, but didn’t move. Once they remained in place for a beat, he gave them a smile and a salute, disappearing into the wall and closing the wall behind him.

He rushed down the hallway, the cool air whisking past him, any sweat that may’ve appeared on him already going cool against his skin. He grinned like a madman, jumping over stairs and some stuck up bricks. He tripped over one, no matter how good he was, face planting into the rough floor. He hissed as he sat up, pressing his hand against his cheek, pulling his now scuffed up gloves away. They came away red with blood. It took him a moment, adjusting and processing what’d happened. Once he had, he grinned widely. The injury would just make his cover story of being a young kid blowing through town being accurate. He got back up, and continued on his way.

When he finally crawled out an unassuming hole in the side of the palace walls, you really couldn’t tell it was the count under it all. He was slightly out of breath, his eyes were wide and full of life, and he was grinning like a mad man. He looked twenty years younger, and his arm hidden.

He slid down a pipe that slithered down the wall, landing with a solid thump. He took a second to appreciate the crisp breeze that blew in from the north, breathing it in, putting his hands on his hips. After that second, he looked upon the glittering town below him, grinning. “Watch out, Vesuvia!” He said to no one, waving his arms out to it. “Here I come.” The last sentence was said breathlessly. He took one more second to appreciate how it looked before delving into the streets of his beloved city.

He wondered around the streets of Vesuvia, gazing and gawking at the stores that were still open. Too many wares, and not enough things he could process. Not when the night was rushing away from him and he still had to hit the South Side. He skirted around larger streets, dancing around large groups. After a while, he ended up in the area he wanted. The sign above the tavern greeted him with the bold words,  _ The Rowdy Raven. _

He grinned widely, and put his hands on his hips. He’d heard Julian talk about this place a lot, and it seemed like the perfect place for Lucio. Loud, packed, and full of rowdy (and randy) people. Julian had mentioned the amount of people he’d slept with that’d come from here. He took a second to gather his courage before opening the wood door. 

The bartender, a large, rough looking man, turned his gaze to him as he entered in. It seemed empty at the moment, with only a couple of other patrons scattered across the tavern. But then again, it was only barely evening. There would undoubtedly be more people turning up to get drunk, get into a brawl, and maybe go home with a stranger.

...He hoped.

He walked over to the bar, keeping his steps overly confident and spritely, and leaned against it. “Hallo, what’ve ya got on sale?” Lucio made sure his accent was  _ obnoxious _ , and very over the top. Actually, probably close to how he sounded when he first  _ entered _ Vesuvia, he realized in the back of his head. Thankfully, the bartender didn’t seem to see through it. “What’re you lookin’ for?” He asked gruffly, somewhat slurring his words.

Lucio took a beat to “think”. “Wha’s the strongest thang ya got?” He asked, giving a “friendly” finger gun and wink.

“Salty Bitters,” the bartender grunted, cleaning a stein roughly with a rag.

Lucio gave the bar a hearty, friendly smack. “Sounds perfect! I’ll take one o’ those.”

The bartender grunted, pulling out a stein from a shelf. “It’ll be ready here in a few.”

Lucio gave him a satisfied nod, and pointed to a booth in the semi-back. “I’ll just be right over there.”

Another grunt and a nod, and Lucio left the bar to sit down. The booth was empty, and it gave him the perfect advantage to watch the entire bar without really being noticed. All he couldn’t really see was the front door, but that was fine. The table inside the small cubby was large enough that if Lucio so chose, he could lay on top of it comfortably. He was pretty impressed, as he could count nearly six or seven other cubbies similar to his own.

He was brought out of his musings by the bartender, bringing over his first drink of the night. Lucio gave a friendly nod of acknowledgement (ignoring the barkeep’s grunt of vague annoyance), and took a sip of it. It honestly tasted like shit, like really badly salted honey. Julian hadn’t been lying when he said it tasted like hell incarnate. Still, it’d do what he’d want it to, which was get him absolutely, horrifically drunk. He took long, slow sips of it as the bar slowly filled up.

He watched carefully, noting some semi-familiar faces (if Julian’s stories were even to be slightly true and believed). So, now he listened in. Turned out, people at a tavern didn’t bother to keep their lips shut, and proceeded to say whatever was on their mind, especially as they got more and more drinks into them.

A lot of the people here didn’t like him, as Lucio.

_ Perfect _ .

It was with a devious grin that he swaggered up to the biggest, meanest son of a bitch in the joint. The man easily dwarfed even  _ him _ , and had too many scars to count. “Hey there, handsome,” Lucio said, a little hip tilt and a flirty eyebrow raise.

The man squinted at him from the corner of his narrowed eyes, barely seeing him around the mass of his stein. “Wha’ th’ fuck you want, you tiny twink?” He snapped, making no effort to seem friendly.

Lucio gave a convincingly over dramatic hand over his heart, looking upset. “Wha’ the fuck do  _ I  _ want?” He parroted, sounding surprised and a little confused. “ _ I _ jus’ wanna buy  _ you _ a round or two.” He gave an exaggerated wink to the man, leaning back against the bar, purposefully puffing out his chest.

The man looked him up and down, and Lucio  _ knew _ he painted a pretty picture. After a few seconds of this, the larger man shrugged. “Sure. What’s a few rounds gonna hurt?”

And now, there they were, both a few drinks in, Lucio pleasantly buzzed, and the other man drunk off his ass. They’d been having great conversations throughout the night, before Lucio decided to ask a very dangerous question. “So… how do you feel about the not-so-departed Count?” He asked as innocently as he could, swirling a finger around the brim of his half-full stein.

“You mean goat bitch?!” The man had hiccuped. He waved his stein around, sloshing Salty Bitters, shrugging. “Personality wise, he’s a prick. But  _ physically? _ ” He leaned over the table, and lowered his voice a little. Lucio leaned over the rest of the way so he could hear the man over the low din of the tavern. “ _ Physically _ , he’s beautiful. I’d fuck that man in an instant if I even  _ thought _ I’d have a chance.”

Lucio raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

The large man nodded. “Oh fuck yea. He looks like he’d be really pretty when callin’ a man’s name.”

Lucio felt himself flush, and cocking a cocky eyebrow. “Didn’t ever think of askin’ him?”

The man shrugged. “Couldn’t ever get close to him, not that I’d even  _ want _ to, mind.”

“Kidnap him, then.”

The man sputtered out a laugh, smacking the table. “Yer quite funny, yanno that, Sylor?”

Lucio flushed, smiling to cover up his pleasure at the compliment. Little did the man in front of him know who he was speaking to, and that Lucio had, in fact, called out many a man’s name, usually in the throes of pleasure. Oh, but he couldn’t give himself away just yet. He figured some more harmless flirting would be fine, maybe a quick and rough shag.

He leaned forward to keep going at it, flirty grin and gently tracing fingers, when the bar door was slammed open by an all too familiar lanky figure.

Julian wasn’t wearing his coat, and he was looking ragged. His eye (the other being covered by his eyepatch) was ringed with red, his lips were slightly more split than usual, his hair stuck up in about fifteen different directions like when he had run his hands through it a bunch, and overall, he looked like he had just finished crying. He looked around the tavern, glaring at each of the patrons, slowly going from one person to the next. No one dared move a muscle, even as the man slunk further into the bar. He was in the near middle before he stopped and did a slow turn, his gazing looking around the tavern. His eyes nearly fully slid by Lucio before they flicked back to him. He stopped, went completely stock still, his hand flying up to point at Lucio, and his lips pulled back into a snarl before he hissed out, “ _ You…! _ ”

Lucio blinked at the red-head, acting more confused than he actually was. “Me…?” He asked, putting a coquettish hand against his chest. “I’ve no clue who you even are.”

Julian’s face twisted in one of pure rage. “You-”

“Julie! No fightin’ with Demis’ whore!” One of the other men in the bar called out, earning him a round of obnoxious applause. Julian whipped around, and shot the man a glare that made Lucio flinch back. Most of the tavern shared his reaction, though a few let out sarcastic “wooOOoo”’s. Julian decided to ignore them and turned right back around to Lucio, pointing at him. “You’re coming back home with me.”

Lucio snorted, rolling his eyes, crossing his arms, and leaning back in his seat. “Yea, right,” he scoffed. He gestured with his thumb to the man sitting in the booth with him. “I’m going out back with Demis. You’re free to try and fight your way out, though.”

Julian’s face changed to one of worried confusion. “What?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

Lucio pointed to the men behind the red-head, cocking an eyebrow. “Keep him busy, yea?”

Julian’s eye went wider as he heard the scraping of chairs behind him. “Wait, what-” Was all he managed to get out before he was jumped by five other men, one of them swinging a chair at him. Julian went down with a shout, quickly being dog piled by the other men.

Lucio gave his partner, Demis, a flirty smile, and waved a hand to the back door, across the tavern. “Wanna head out back?”

Demis grinned back, already standing up. “Sure.”

They managed to skirt around the edges of the brawl, and Lucio had to admit, he was impressed at how quickly Julian moved in a fight. And at just how  _ brutal _ the man was. He’d already managed to get out from under the other men, and dodged a fist intended at his head. There was a sickening  _ snap _ that Lucio heard even over the sounds of the brawl, and for a split second, the blonde was worried that Julian had gotten hurt, but no. Someone else in the tavern screamed, and Lucio recognized him as the man who’d wielded the chair. The giant man fell to the ground, clutching his backwards bent leg, a pissed off Julian kicking him in the solar plexus for good measure before being dragged back by an arm around his throat. Lucio’d have to give him a compliment later. But for right now…

Demis took him by the hand and led him out the back door.

Lucio was backed up against the wall of the Raven, legs wrapped up against his partner’s hips, tongue sticking out to lick some remnants of Salty Bitters from his partners finger tips. Sure, the foreplay had been nice. Being touched and teased until the drink wasn’t the only thing that was making his head spin was always a nice feeling, but he was  _ really _ ready for it to begin. The man above him could practically  _ wrap his hands around his waist _ , and that was a strangely arousing sight. Lucio’d always loved taller and/or larger men, and Demis fit that to perfection. Well… almost to perfection. The tiniest voice in the back of his head reminded him of the moment he had with Julian, but he shut it up.

Lucio winked at the man, putting his arms around his shoulders, intending to bring him down, before the back door slammed open. It bounced off the brick walls of the tavern with a crash, and broke whatever crate had been behind it.

It felt almost like before, except now Julian’s face was even more ruined. His nose was bleeding, there was a welt under his eye, there was a new split in his lip, and his eye was wild. His teeth were bloody as he snarled, “ _ Lucio! _ ” into the cooling air.

“L-Lucio…?” Demis repeated, looking horrified. He looked down at Lucio, his brain trying to wrap around what had and was happening through drink and arousal.

Lucio shook his head, giving a shaky smile. “I-I’m not-...” He tried to plead, desperately hoping that this was just a really shitty dream.

Julian sneered and rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward, grabbing Lucio’s mechanical hand, and ripping the glove off of it. The gold shimmered in the dim light.

“FUCK!” Demis dropped Lucio like he was a poisonous snake, shaking his head. Lucio yelped as he was dropped on his ass onto hard, brick road. He hissed as he rolled slightly, trying to get off his now bruised tailbone. “Fuck man! Fuck you!” Demis screamed and spat as he retreated into the bar.

Once the door shut with a loud  _ bang _ , Julian and Lucio looked at each other, Julian’s face harsh and his body trembling. After a moment, he straightened himself up, crossed his arms, and gave the most disapproving look he could muster up. It worked, as it was a look that haunted Lucio from his childhood. After a beat, Lucio bared his teeth at the man above him. “What the hell, Jules?!”

“What the hell?” Julian parroted, before gesturing angrily at the door. “What the hell?! You run off out of the Palace and go to the  _ one bar _ I’ve always told you  _ not to go _ and your only response is  _ WHAT THE HELL? _ ”

Lucio rolled his eyes, making his way to his feet and ignoring Julian’s roar of, “ _ I SHOULD BE SAYING WHAT THE HELL!” _ . “You’re making it seem like it’s that big of a deal,” he scoffed, leaning against the wall, checking the “nails” on his gold metal hand.

“It is that big of a deal!”

Lucio looked up, face flat and a bit sarcastic, but it fell to one of shock. Julian looked somewhere between wanting to scream his lungs out in frustration and anger and wanting to break down and sob. His eye was red and glistening with unshed tears, and Lucio could now really  _ see _ just how badly the brawl had fucked him up.

“You just… just  _ disappeared! _ ” Julian snapped, stammering as he managed around whatever knot was in his throat. His arm gestured wildly around them as he spoke, accentuating his words. “And we… I didn’t know if you were dead or if they’d come back or  _ anything! _ ” The “they” was pretty easy to guess. Julian stomped his foot, and swallowed heavily, his arm falling to his side. “I didn’t  _ know _ …” It was barely a whisper, hissed out through clenched teeth.

Lucio wasn’t sure what the emotion he felt creeping up was. Disappointment? In himself? He took a step toward Julian, arms outstretched, seeking to comfort for the first time in his life. “Jules, I-I’m sor-...” His words died in his throat as Julian looked away, fiddling with something behind his head.

Julian ripped his eyepatch off and whipped his gaze up to Lucio, glaring at him. “No you’re not,” he sneered, taking more steps forward, intending to get into Lucio’s space.

Lucio slowly backed up, hands up in surrender.

“You’re not sorry, you could never  _ be  _ **_sorry_ ** , all you  _ care _ about is your  _ little parties,” _ his tone went high and mocking, “and appeasing your  _ stupid goat _ .” He pointed an accusatory finger to the middle of Lucio’s chest. “And no, I’m not talking about the Devil Arcana.”

Lucio looked around them, partially looking to see if there were people around, but also to see if there was an exit. So far, none.

He tripped over a stray brick, losing precious ground. Julian took this to his advantage, swiping out and grabbing Lucio’s flesh hand. He all but slammed it against the nearest wall, ignoring Lucio’s scrabbling at his hand. He stared at the wall for a beat, silent. Thinking. “What made you  _ think _ ,” this was accompanied by a sharp turn of the head and an equally sharp glare, “that doing  _ this _ was a  _ good idea? _ ”

Lucio whined, trying to drop his weight in order to get away. Whatever feeling was burning in his belly and clogging up his throat, he hated it. He wanted to get away from it. Run and run and go far away from it, harder and farther than he’d even run in his life.

Julian ignored this as he grabbed Lucio’s throat, and pushed him against the wall. It wasn’t a tight hold at all, and in fact, if Lucio so chose, he could easily break out of it, but the fact that he’d done it so fast that Lucio’s head bounced slightly off the wall made his brain go flat. It was just meant to be a warning. And one that his stupid, dumbass, horny brain was taking all too wrong. The knot he swallowed around his throat wasn’t entirely one of fear or sorrow or anything, and was made of way too much arousal. His still semi-erect dick trapped in his trousers made sure of that. Julian looked at him, mis-colored eyes looking so sorrowfully at his own, and the arousal was slowly fading away to something else.

What was the word he was looking for for this feeling? Ah, that’s right.

It was  _ guilt _ .

Lucio felt it creep over his body, making any strength he had in his body fade. He gave the most apologetic face he could, everything drooping and accepting his fate. It was closer to a really pathetic pout. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling his lip tremble.

Julian’s eyes narrowed, and he put just a little bit of pressure up against his throat. “Are you…?” He asked slowly, his voice tight and trembling, each word hitting like a bee sting. He seemed on the verge of crying. He pushed against his throat for a split second, arms tense with the want to go harder, easing off instantly after. Another threat. “Are you  _ actually _ sorry?”

Lucio nodded, sputtering. “Y-yes!” He was quickly being unable to force down the panic that was rising up in a vicious bile.

Julian assessed him for a second longer, eyes flicking back and forth across his face, before he let Lucio go. He took a step back, his hands running through his hair as he let out a deep breath. He gasped for air like a drowning man, and whatever rage he had seemed to have left him.

Lucio’s feet hit the floor hard, and he leaned against the wall, out of breath. He hadn’t been choked  _ that _ hard, but it still left him dizzy. If he had to guess, the little embers of arousal had made his guilt only  _ that _ much worse. That, and he hadn’t been fucked in… gods, in  _ years _ .

Julian turned around, and looked Lucio in the eyes, intent and firm. It was just then that Lucio noticed just how  _ exhausted _ the doctor looked. He realized with a pang of more guilt that Julian had probably been up and out  _ all night _ looking for him. He wanted to curl in on himself and die. “C’mon,” the taller man sighed, picking up his eyepatch. He was putting it on as he started to walk out of the alley. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Fucking. PAGES. God, this took a while to write. I think I was semi-actively working on this for a solid two days? This chapter literally DOUBLED the fic in page and word count, alone. Anyways.  
> Beginning of the First Fall, y'all. <3


	4. Just one little Oopsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Lucio clean up after Lucio's night on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember that ANGST portion I promised y'all? It's startin'.
> 
> Also, TW for vomiting. There's not a lotta it, and it isn't really explicit, but I figured I'd put it up just in case.

Lucio sat there in the tub, curled up and trying to make himself look as small as possible. Julian was currently running his hands through his hair once more, eyepatch currently thrown onto the vanity in the bedroom, looking more than just frustrated and miserable. This was their third change of water, and Julian had started scrubbing super hard on Lucio’s head last round, his scalp was throbbing in pain.

Most of the dye was out, and whatever remained would just fade naturally on it’s own. It still, however, left Lucio a pretty dirty blonde. Not that he cared right now, because there was a really pissed off Julian in the room.

“Why would you… just  _ why _ …?” Julian groaned, asking the same question again for the umptheenth time that night, pacing up and down the bathroom lengthwise. He looked over at Lucio, hunched over and looking more and more pissed off. “ _ Why?! _ ”

Lucio shrugged, also for the umptheenth time that night. “Because I wanted some adventure,” he answered, just as he had many times before. After a second, he added on, for the first time that night, “and I wanted a good fuck.”

Julian’s groan got the loudest it had been all night, almost letting out a scream in frustration, hands returning to pull at his hair, eyes rolling back into his head. He turned around and stomped around for a couple of paces, distressed. It seemed that wasn’t exactly the answer he’d hoped for.

Lucio curled into an ever smaller ball, trying to be as tiny as absolutely possible. He hadn’t nor didn’t  _ mean _ to make Julian that annoyed or that worried. He’d just wanted to have a little fun and to have a quick fuck. He would’ve been back in the Palace by dawn. However, it seemed that Julian didn’t care about that.

He turned back around, his gray eyes glinting with a new, rageful light. “Your arm,” he said suddenly. “Give it here.”

Lucio felt all the blood drain out of his face. “What?” He asked incredulously. Surely he wasn’t being serious…?

Julian held out a hand and made a motion. “Give it here,” he repeated, leaning onto his front leg in order to be more intimidating. “ _ Now _ .”

Lucio stared at him, unsure and unable to fully process.

They sat there for a few moments, no words, before Julian’s intense face changed to one of blinding anger. “ _ NOW! _ ” He roared, his voice echoing around the tiny bathroom.

Lucio flinched back, but his right hand was already working on removing the left. The arm unlatched with a magical hiss and whirl, and deactivated, leaving it limp and a little uncomfortable to lift over his head to hold it. He still held it out for Julian, looking sheepishly away.

The doctor took a few steps forward and snatched it out of his hands. He was still glaring down at Lucio, breathing hard. He turned around a beat later, setting it down on the sink’s counter with a heavy and hard  _ thud _ .

Lucio’s remaining arm went back around his legs, and he leaned away as much as he could. He legitimately felt  _ bad _ . He probably  _ should _ have told Julian, but his better judgement had told him  _ otherwise _ . Or, should he say, “better,” in quotation marks. Because this wasn’t the outcome he’d wanted (or even expected) at all. He’d just want a quick, back alley fuck, and then eventually crawl or creep back into the castle. With no one none the wiser. Instead, he had one of the only people he could call his friend beyond angry at him, maybe considering abandoning him (as everyone else had), and looking like he was legitimately debating throwing multiple things against the walls.

After a few tense moments, Julian forced himself to take in a deep, long breath through his nose. He clapped once, startling Lucio out of whatever stupor he had been in, and turned around, hands pressed tight together and the tips of his middle fingers on the tip of his nose. “Right then! Well! No time like the present!”

“The present?” Lucio echoed, confused. “The present for what?”

Julian shrugged, a little overdramatically, before draining the tub once again. When he reached for the shampoo, Lucio winced, feeling his scalp scream at him “no more”. Julian, however, was just putting it back on its perch, and grabbing a towel from the heated towel rack. He threw it at Lucio, and watched as the blonde fumbled with it for a moment before peeking over it with soft eyes. “Get dried off, then get dressed.” He pointed to the bed clothes on the counter. “I’m going to go throw your arm in the pool or something…” He mumbled the last bit, more so to himself, making an annoyed gesture.

With that, he grabbed Lucio’s golden arm and stalked out of the room, his movements still betraying how angry he felt. The door closed with a solid  _ bang _ , and Lucio sat there in the tub, not moving. Once he heard the bedroom door close as well, he slowly stood up, watching the door like a hawk, listening to the fading footsteps in the hallway beyond. When he didn’t hear Julian coming back, he started to dry himself.

He’d honestly forgotten how hard it was to do that when he’d spent the last however long with a false arm. He slipped up occasionally and dropped the towel, leading to him cursing under his breath and bending down to pick it up. Once he finally got all dry, he managed to shimmy into his clothes, grumbling the entire way as his pants refused to work with him. It took far longer than normal, and by the time he was done, he could hear Julian’s footsteps coming back down the hall.

He waited in the bathroom, starting his nightly routine of skincare and brushing his teeth. Julian opened and closed the bedroom door a lot softer than when he left, but refrained from entering into the bathroom. Lucio didn’t move from where he was hunched over the sink, staring into the veneer of it. A sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he gripped the side of it. He swallowed heavily, trying to keep the feeling of bile down, but it eventually got him.

He barely managed to cling to the side of his toilet before his stomach spasmed, sending whatever remained in his stomach up and out. He knelt there, gagging and dry retching. He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings until a soft and gentle hand brushed away and held back his hair. Lucio attempted a “thank you” before it was interrupted by more vomiting.

He was crying by the time he pulled back from the bowl this time. The hands were now softly petting and combing through his hair, even softer shushes and coos coming from behind him. He wanted to just curl up and die. Or vomit more. And vomit more he did, releasing whatever remained in his system until he was literally just vomiting up stomach bile.

He sobbed, unsure what had led his life up to that point. It all felt like too much, like the only thing he  _ could _ do was keel over and die. He barely noticed Julian gently grabbing at his arms and pulling him back against his chest until he felt the solid warmth under him. He hiccuped, his sobs growing in intensity. He scrabbled against Julian’s arms and chest, brain not able to fully process what was going on.

“Ju-Ju-Jules…?” Lucio hiccuped and whined, ugly sobbing and feeling uncomfortable with how loud he was. It felt like he was drowning and suffocating and dying and his head hurt with a migraine starting to crawl up the back of it.

Julian pressed his nose into Lucio’s hair, taking in a deep breath. “I’m here,” he finally murmured, wrapping his arms around the flailing count as much as he could. “I’m here.”

Lucio managed to finally get a hold on one of Julian’s arms, and held it close. Nothing felt entirely real, especially the world around them. Even Julian’s chest didn’t feel entirely there. All that felt real was his overwhelming and destructive emotions. His vision was mostly blacked out, he couldn’t  _ see _ , he couldn’t  _ hear _ … Julian’s soft murmurs had been completely lost over the din in his ears.

“Ju-Jules,” he tried again, blinking tears out of his eyes as quickly as they replenished, his chest growing tighter and tighter until it felt like he was going to pop. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, as the sounds of a battlefield slowly came into his ears.

“I’m here, Lucio.”

Lucio didn’t hear him. Instead, he started to hear the sounds of swords flashing, of people screaming, of the roars of rage as the man who  _ cut off arm came up behind him- _

“Lucio!” Julian shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. The horrifying glaze that had gone over Lucio’s eyes cleared slightly, though he wasn’t all back. He was stiff, his eyes rimmed heavily with red, and snot dripping down from his nose. He was an ugly crier, and Julian had already seen too much of it within the past two days. He gently put a hand up to Lucio’s cheek. “Jesus  _ christ _ … Lucio, are you with me?”

Lucio’s eyes went wide and his teeth grit. Julian’s open concern turned to a frown of worry. He didn’t realize what he said wrong until he remembered something from far back. One of (if not maybe) the first times they met. The battlefield. Where Julian had to amputate Lucio’s arm. He remembered how nasty that fight had been… Lucio had claimed his arm was fine in a somewhat blood-loss and fever driven state, but in fact, it  _ had _ to be removed. Almost all of the bone had been crushed, and he had been losing blood fast from how many veins and arteries had been nicked. Julian had picked up Lucio and rushed him back to the med tent. He remembered how he’d screamed at Nazali (apologizing far afterwards) to get a station ready, and that he needed a bone saw, and went to work right then and there.

It was slowly dawning over him in horror that “are you with me?” was probably a bad thing to say. If he remembered, Lucio hadn’t been the one to say “are you with me?”.  _ It had been someone else. _ That phrase was probably dragging Lucio farther down into worse and worse memories.

Julian took in a deep breath, swallowed his fear, and pressed his forehead and nose gently against Lucio’s own. “Are you there?” He asked, now running his hands up and down Lucio’s arm as soothingly as he could. There was a split second where the blonde tensed up before it all left in a rush. He sat back hard, and blinked for a little while. He was probably slowly catching up to reality, and Julian didn’t remove his hands. He knew that Lucio would need that grounding, that comfort.

And it was honestly helping.

Lucio was finally being able to see clearly, and it wasn’t just a really shitty past memory. The smells of blood and iron were slowly fading. The harsh sands and biting winds were going down to a dull whistle. The dull blacks, grays, and tans of the battlefield fell away to the cold, crisp marble of his bathroom. And in front of him wasn’t a young Julian Devorak, barely in his twenties, hair long and pulled away from his face. It was an older one, with a couple more wrinkles, deeper bags under his eyes, and short hair.

He slowly raised his hand up to Julian’s face, and held it. His touch was revenant, worshipful, as if he couldn’t believe someone was  _ here _ with him. He stroked over Julian’s cheekbones once, and the taller man nuzzled into the touch. When he pressed the softest kiss against the heel of Lucio’s palm did Lucio return back to crying.

He hunched over, hand still on Julian’s face, sobbing into his knees. Everything hurt, everything felt wrong, and he was so, so tired. Julian gently moved his head so it rested in his lap, and Lucio followed his lead, letting himself lay curled around Julian’s lap. He managed to get a grip around one of his calves, and held it closely as Julian started to pet and gently pull on his hair. Julian returned to shushing and cooing over the man, his own emotions currently kept in a locked box.

Lucio was slowly calming down almost twenty minutes later. Julian had leant against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, still petting Lucio’s head, and maybe occasionally his neck and face and arm. He was humming an old lullaby, occasionally singing the words softly. When Lucio’s sobs finally subsided to hiccups, Julian looked down at the man again.

The blonde looked distantly into something only he could see, and it seemed to be through Julian’s belly. “You’ve got a nice voice,” he complimented, voice rough and scratchy. His scrabbling and tight grip had finally settled onto gently squeezing occasionally. It distantly reminded Julian of Faust, and he smiled softly.

Lucio’s gaze flicked up, startling Julian a little. “What’re you smilin’...” A deep breath, adjustment, swallow. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Julian chuckled softly, brushing some stray hairs away from Lucio’s face. The blonde gently nuzzled into his hand before it went back to petting his hair. “Just about Faust,” he admitted, the movement changing to gently rub against Lucio’s cheek. Lucio gave a weak chuckle of his own before the thousand yard stare returned, and silence fell upon them.

After a few moments, Lucio blinked, taking in a deep breath like he did when he was waking up. “Hey, Julian?” He mumbled, his arm coming up to curl around his face, hand now resting on the inside of Julian’s thigh. The blonde started to gently stroke where it was, no intent, just wanting to feel movement and here the soft sound of his nail running over course fibers. Julian hummed a soft, committal sound, hand gently brushing the hair around his ear. “Am I… a bad person?”

Julian paused, legitimately surprised at how honest and open Lucio sounded and by the question. He swallowed heavily, continuing his petting. It was still pause enough that Lucio shifted to start to stand up. “I knew it…” he hissed, sounding terrible.

Julian rolled his eyes, tugged on Lucio’s hair, and directed him back down. “Me being caught off guard isn’t an answer, Lucio.” He returned to petting the blonde’s hair shortly after. Lucio didn’t respond, but he wasn’t as boneless as he’d been before. Julian let out a deep breath through his nose, letting his head fall back against the wall. “Are you a bad person?” He mouthed into the open air, thinking. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought.  _ Old _ Lucio, for sure.  _ Now _ Lucio… he wasn’t so sure. He’d grown a lot,  _ that _ was for sure. But had he grown  _ enough _ …? Julian thought on it. He honestly couldn’t come up with an answer. He wasn’t exactly a  _ bad _ person by any means, but he most  _ certainly _ wasn’t  _ good _ either. Julian mouthed the question again, letting out the barest whisper as he spoke the words. He honestly couldn’t answer that, and what was worse was that he knew Lucio knew this.

They sat there for a little while longer before Lucio made the attempt to sit up again. He did it slowly, and it was obvious that his… older age was finally catching up to him. He got stuck about halfway through, Julian helping him finish the movement. He sat there for a few moments, a gross facsimile of what they’d done that morning. He finally sighed heavily, standing up a grunt and a groan. “C’mon… we’d better go off to bed,” he sighed, already walking into the bedroom.

Julian scrambled up. He stood in the bathroom doorway, watching Lucio. He expected Lucio to crawl into bed the second he came to the side closest to the door (the side he usually slept on), but instead, Lucio made his way to the bedroom door, opening it, and gesturing to the hallway outside. He gave an expectant look at Julian.

Julian flicked his eyes between the open door and Lucio. After a few moments of this, Lucio groaned to the sky, and stomped his foot. “Are you staying or are you going?” He finally asked, gesturing to the bed and then the door respectively. He sounded annoyed.

Julian swallowed heavily. “Oh.” He was very much internally debating with himself. Lucio obviously  _ needed _ some help, ones he couldn’t handle himself, but he also didn’t know if they were back on better terms. He looked between the door and the bed before going back to Lucio. “Do you even  _ want me _ to stay?”

Lucio’s already thin bravado shattered, and his shoulders slumped, defeated. He looked sullenly at the floor, feeling emotion rise up once more. “No,” he admitted. Julian started to take a step when Lucio finished his thought. “I don’t want you to go.”

Julian swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Okay. What do you want me to do?” Part of him wanted to step into the role of something a lot closer to a lover, but his doctor instincts took hold, and refused to let him do that. Lucio needed  _ professional medical help _ , not a lover.

The blonde raised his eyes, looking at him sadly. His lip started to tremble as he managed to croak out, “I want you to go.”

“ _ What? _ ” Julian repeated, voice raising in pitch.

Lucio bit down on his lip, clearly trying to keep himself from crying again, and pointed out the door. He just shook his head.

“Lucio-”

“Please, Ilya!” Lucio finally managed, looking at him with watery eyes and wobbly mouth. “Just... please…” He was honestly begging, voice barely a squeak coming out his throat.

Julian had jumped a little at the sound of his birth name, and stared at him, trying to figure out what went wrong. Lucio had literally said that he wanted Julian to stay, so why was he kicking him out…?

_ Was he afraid? _

The thought rang through Julian’s head like a church bell, loud and long and clear. It echoed, leaving him unsure what steps to take next. Lucio wasn’t ever really  _ afraid _ . He was  _ nervous, sure _ , but never  _ afraid _ . Just what  _ had _ happened in the Devil’s Realm? Whatever it’d done had left Lucio a complete and utter wreck, and Julian guessed he was just finally seeing it.

_ Or was this how he always was…? Underneath it all…? _

He didn’t let the thought plant itself in his head as he raised his hands in surrender, fishing his eyepatch out of his pocket and putting it on as he slowly walked through the door. Lucio didn’t really watch him leave, keeping his eyes on Julian’s feet as he walked.

Lucio slowly closed the door as Julian left, and when the taller man was fully out in the hallway, all that remained was a little sliver of the door open. Lucio bit his lip, clearly still trying not to cry. Julian put a gentle hand on the door frame within Lucio’s line of sight. “Hey…” Silver eyes flicked up to him, still endlessly frightened. “It’ll be ok,” he promised gently, hoping that Lucio would believe him. The blonde just numbly nodded, closing the door softly after Julian pulled his hand away.

For an eternal few moments, both men stood on either side of the door.

Lucio wanted to open it, to crawl into Julian’s arms, and tell the man to never. Let. Him.  _ Go. Ever. _ But he knew he couldn’t have that good of a life. He bit his tongue, trying to keep down another spike of anger at his own failures.

Julian wanted it to open. To hold Lucio’s head under his own for a few more minutes, wrap him up in a pair of arms that weren’t going to easily let him go, and to let him  _ rest _ for once. He pressed his hand and forehead up against the wood softly, breathing out gentle whispers against it.

Eventually, Julian heard Lucio go to bed, the springs on his bed creaking. He waited for a moment longer before turning down the hall and leaving, shoulders hung low and head ducked down. He paused for a second to put his eyepatch back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my evil, maniacal laughter as we start this descent into depression. I will say that we've FINALLY started on our first major plot point, or, at least, ramping up to it. There's three overall, so I hope y'all're ready for 'em.


	5. Fair Weather Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dangers of being left alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly cried while writing this chapter.
> 
> H a v e f u n!

Lucio laid on the bed, staring blankly ahead. The pillow beside him felt too empty, and the feeling of the dogs beside him wasn’t enough. It didn’t  _ feel _ enough. It felt false. Fake. As if he was trying to replace Julian with them (and he’d known the dogs longer).

After a few moments, he growled in frustration, and stood up, reopening the door. “Out,” he barked at the dogs. They gave each other and then him a confused look, but eventually stood up and trotted out. Lucio closed the door behind them, leaning heavily against it once it was shut. He heard one of them paw at the door and whine, and God, all the temptation to let them back in rushed him like a tsunami. The temptation to go and run after Julian Devorak came screeching back, and he felt his hand clench against the wood.

He choked back a sob, knees starting to buckle underneath him. He slapped his hand over his mouth as he slowly fell to the floor, phantom pains from a long-gone, scar ridden arm raging through his system. It felt like he was losing it again, leaving him weak physically and mentally. He crumbled against the floor, back pressed against the door, forcing himself to not sob too loudly. He didn’t know if there was a servant or Courtier right outside the door. He didn’t want them to hear, and he  _ certainly _ didn’t want rumors spreading about him. Could you imagine it?  _ Weak former Count breaks down over losing the only friend. Pathetic idiot of a Count has feelings for his only friend. Terrible, horrible Count makes everyone think they have feelings for him when he doesn’t deserve them. _

He didn’t realize he was across the room, at his vanity, staring at a small, but lovingly kept dagger hidden in the corner until his hand was creeping across the wood. It had been one of the only gifts he’d ever gotten (and kept) from his mother. He was still sure her name was engraved on the handle somewhere. He stared at it, unblinkingly, swallowing around the thick knot in his throat. His inner arm on his phantom arm ached, feeling the skin split and the blood rolling down. He could feel the large, ugly scar that went from his wrist to inner elbow, and the smaller, more numerous scars that went horizontally across his wrist. He could swear he could feel the tiny nicks between his fingers once again.

He didn’t realize he’d grabbed the dagger and took himself into his bathroom until he felt himself sit down on the side of the tub. The tile was frigid against his feet, the cold edge of the tub digging into his thighs. He set the dagger on the slight ledge, and stared at the grout below him. He was considering just putting the blade in the tub, and walking out. Leaving it.

He still found himself shimming out of his clothes, folding them carefully (or, as carefully as he could with only one hand), and setting them on the counter. He didn’t look at the mirror until the last second. The larger scars across his shoulder left him flinching slightly, grimacing as memories came through. He didn’t know  _ where _ he wanted to do this. Only that he did. He stared at himself, at the medium gash across the top of his right hip, at the smaller ones that checkered across the insides his thighs, at the long-healed burns that were over them, at the short, thick scar on the side of his ribcage, at the-

He tore himself away from the mirror, walking back to the tub, sitting on it and returning to stare at the grout below him. The dagger sat there, mocking him. He’d done it so many times in the past,  _ why couldn’t he do it now? _

_ Weak. _

_ Pathetic. _

**_Pussy._ **

He didn’t even realize that he’d driven it as hard as he could into a non-critical area in his thigh until he gasped in pain, shocked forward into a fetal position. He swallowed heavily, allowing himself to sit up, and stared.

The blade itself wasn’t down to the hilt, which meant that while he’d possibly hit bone, he didn’t drive it in as hard as he’d believe. It still hurt. He let out a shaky, choked off sound as he took his hands away from it for a moment. Small rivulets of blood were already starting to leak from the wound, trickling like a darkly soothing river down. Most went down his calf, teasing almost like a lover did when he told them he liked that. Some dropped onto the floor in a violently vermillion rain. A small pool was forming around his heel already, creeping outward like the plague. He was unable to move for a few moments, just watching, hands away, in shock and horror. He’d been clean for  _ years _ now. Why  _ now?! _

He ripped it out, not caring if he tore more flesh as it came out. The screech of pain he made as he fell to the floor, clutching at the back of his thigh, was highly undignified. He heard his dogs paw and whine and start to bark pathetically at his bedroom door, trying to get in. “Mercedes! Melchior!” Lucio yelled, glaring in the general direction. They went silent. “Go lay with Noddy!” He ordered, pointing at them as if they could see him. Another whine. “NOW!”

He heard their dainty feet click outside his door, questioning, before they slowly faded down the hallway. Once he could hear them, he groaned, hissing in pain. He rolled, trying to not sob at the feeling. It hurt so bad. His heart and the wound. But the sick, dark part of his brain was pleased. This is what he  _ wanted _ , right? Retribution?  _ Suffering? _ This was how to repay for his crimes, it told him. It was so slick in how it sounded, like the Devil. But worse, because it was so much closer to his own voice… No, not his own voice.

Julian’s.

It lacked the accent, and was slightly deeper, but he could still hear the cadence, the inflection. Like a dark, twisted version of the man was residing in his head.  _ Go patch yourself up, _ it cooed softly, like when Julian would sort of laugh and wave him off to take a bath.  _ Go on. You don’t want people to know, do you? _

“No…” He answered aloud, distress tinging his voice. He slowly sat up, and looked at the counter. Up there, he’d already put out some bandages (when had he done that?). (It didn’t matter.) He stood, but nearly crumpled back down to the floor as he put weight on his injured leg.

He managed to bite down on a scream, the sound only coming out through his throat and bitten lips. He pulled it up, doing little hops as he grabbed the bandages and medicine (when had he pulled all that out?), finally hopping up onto the counter, sitting on it.

He took a few moments, staring solemnly at the wound. It was still oozing blood, and hurt like a bastard. He took in a deep breath, swallowed around the lump in his throat, and lifted his leg. He slid the bandage under it, and started the slow, arduous task of binding it. Tight enough that the muscle would heal, but not tight enough that anyone would notice under his clothes. His brain drifted as his hand worked, cleaning and bandaging and fixing himself up as best as he could.

It was blissfully quiet, his brain feeling like it was pleasantly stuffed with cotton. His vision was blurred, blackened around the edges, his hearing dull and not paying attention. He finished patching himself up, and looked at the dagger. “I’m so sorry for throwing you against the floor like that,” he murmured to it, gently picking it up. He ran his fingers down the flat side of the blade, and ran them back up. He watched as the blood on the blade smeared, his fingers dyed red by it. He did it a few more times before taking it over to the sink and rinsing it off. He set it to the side to be polished once he’d cleaned up all the blood.

He grabbed a black cloth that wouldn’t show anything from under the sink, and started the slow process of scrubbing away as much of the blood as he could. Some of it had sunk into the grout. He grunted and snarled at it, on hands and knees, thighs straining and the injured one screaming in pain at him. He ignored it with a vicious rage, scrubbing harder each second. Once the grout was a decent tan color again, he pulled away, letting out a deep sigh. He wiped away any sweat across his forehead, and stood up. He was pleased with himself. It looked almost spotless. As if he hadn’t just stabbed himself in the leg at all.

The reality of the situation finally crashed down on him. He looked down in horror at the pure, lily white bandages on his leg, waiting for the specks of red to break through. They didn’t yet. He must’ve bound it perfectly, then. He swallowed heavily. He needed to go to bed. Go to bed and not wake up until late in the morning.

He limped over the counter, and slowly redressed. If it had been hard with just one arm, it was harder when working around an injured leg. But he finally managed it, the soft silk caressing his skin in an almost loving embrace. He looked at himself in the mirror, and it was hard to believe that the man, so full of life and joy from literally only a few hours before, had changed to this.

He’d “slicked” his hair back, and it was drying in slow clumps away from his face. His eyes looked hollow, and the circles under them were deeper than he’d ever seen them, looking like he’d just gotten punched in the face. His lips were red, and threatening to split. He was pale, and his cheeks seemed more gaunt. Honestly, he looked closer to a corpse than anything.

He swallowed heavily, not even really hearing the oil-slick whispering in his head. He turned around sharply, breaking the eye contact he had with his reflection. It seemed to taunt him, haunt, even as he couldn’t see it. He walked out of the room pointedly, crawling into bed and laying on his bad leg. It hurt, but it would probably end up helping him, right? He hoped so.

He laid there, faced away from the door, watching the dust motes drift across his vision, the rippling of shadows because of the curtains and branches outside. He eventually fell asleep, wishing to all the gods in the world that he wouldn’t wake up.

Nadia opened the door softly. Mercedes attempted to bully her way past her, but she  _ ssht _ the dog and gently bopped her on the nose. It wasn’t painful, but enough to tell the dog to not. The white hound looked somewhat betrayed, though it was quickly replaced with stress and worry for her owner.

The dogs had come to her in a panic, whining and pawing at her door. It took a while, but she eventually ended up untangling herself from Portia and opening the door. Mercedes had bolted in, starting to yip and spin in circles. Nadia has tried to keep her from waking up her partner, but Portia had sat up groggily, wiping sleep from her eyes. “Waz goin’ on?” She asked, words slurring.

Nadia shook her head at her partner. “Don’t worry about it, his dogs are just spazzing out,” Nadia assured, rolling her eyes and scoffing. Melchior returned the snort, walking up to her and tugging on her sleeve. Nadia was about to rip it out of his mouth and tell them both to leave before Portia’s face turned down, worried.

“Maybe go with them,” she suggested. “Even if it’s nothing, at least they’ll leave us alone.”

Nadia had sighed, but followed the dogs down the corridors, and to Lucio’s room.

And now, she looked upon her ex-husband, asleep. She gave them an annoyed look and shrug, asking with her gesture and facial expression, “What were you getting so worked up over?”

Mercedes whined again, pawing at Nadia’s leg, eyes flicking back to her owner and her. Nadia made another correctional noise. She slowly closed the door, as to not disturb Lucio. “Look, this isn’t a very funny joke,” she snapped, pointing at them and giving each dog a firm glare. “Now, go find somewhere to sleep. If he kicked you out, it was for a good reason.” She didn’t give the dogs another glance as she walked down the halls, returning to her rooms.

Mercedes gave a worried look to Melchior. She  _ knew _ her owner wasn’t safe. It faintly smelled of blood, which meant it came from the bathroom, which meant that Montag had-

Melchior nudged her head softly. He knew. He knew… He turned to leave, putting a gentle tail on her shoulders. His sister took a look back, conflicted. He gave her a soft, gruff  _ woof _ , and tilted his head down another hall than the one Nadia went down. Mercedes cast one more look back before following her brother, head hung almost as low as her tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy, angst train! And self-harm train! I'm so sorry but i'm actually not.


	6. Memories to Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio wakes up after his oopsie, and goes looking for his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, angst time.

Lucio woke up with a groan, everything hurting as if he’d just run a mile. Then again, he had had a very long, stressful 24 hours. Between sneaking out, going down the Rowdy Raven, the whole argument with Julian, and then stabbing himself, it was fair that both his physical and mental state was shit. He slowly sat up, shuffling to get his hips under him. His spine creaked and ached, and his hips felt like they wanted to abandon ship and run. He stretched, raising his arms above his head, his spine popping a multitude of times.

He groaned, letting his arms flop back onto the bed and hunching over. He may as well clean his wound and change the bandages. He threw off the covers, and looked down. So far, he hadn’t bled through his clothes, which was good. He slowly swung his legs off the side of the bed, testing. It seemed that he’d managed to patch himself up in time so that he would be able to walk the next morning. He took in a deep breath, counting down from ten in his head. When he reached three, he finished the countdown aloud.

“Three… two… one…” He rolled himself onto his feet, grunting. His thigh screamed in pain, but he dutifully ignored it. After a second of standing up, he slowly limped to his bathroom, trying to get his movement as natural as he could make it. If he could get used to the pain, he could make it through the day.

He stumbled into his bathroom, the foot on his injured leg catching on the lip under the door. He hissed and cursed, managing to get over to the counter. He leaned against it, the cool marble soothing his hands. He breathed heavily, feeling light headed and nauseous. He stared into the sink, feeling his anxiety creep up. He forced it down with a swallow, and went to sit heavily on the toilet lid.

He slowly slid off his pants, and looked down at his thigh. The bandages had started to show blood, which made sense. He  _ had _ slept on a rather impressive injury, as it were. He slowly unwound the bandages, hissing as it tugged a little on the healing skin. As he pulled it off, he could really see the damage he did to himself last night.

It wasn’t wide, or long, but it was deep. It still softly oozed blood, but mostly seemed to have already closed, which was good. He honestly probably needed stitches, but he didn’t think he could face Julian. Not so soon after their fight.

He bit his lip, trying to keep tears from spilling.  _ God _ , he was a dick. He couldn’t even keep himself from hurting those he cared about. How pathetic was he?

He looked sharply to the side, swallowing heavily around the large lump in his throat. Nope. He wasn’t causing more damage today. He was going to re-bandage his leg and then get on his clothes and walk out and deal with today like an adult. He didn’t have any meetings today, as far as he was aware, and he still needed his arm back. He frowned as he started to put new bandages on. Where  _ was _ his arm? He needed that. Where had Julian even  _ put it _ ? Did he  _ actually _ throw it into the pool like he threatened? Nadia would probably know. Was probably given to her  _ anyways _ . He would go visit her once he was dressed. She was hopefully already up, if not for certain.

Lucio stood in front of Nadia’s door, hand poised to knock. He’d managed to figure out how to walk there with little to no limp. If anyone noticed, he could pass it off as having slept on his hip wrong. He  _ was _ getting up there in years. He knocked, three sharp raps with his knuckles, and waited. Inside, there was a quick curse, a small clatter, and then some footsteps. A bright shock of red hair opened the door, the curls wild and going everywhere. Lucio stared down at the younger Devorak.

“Hi, Lucio!” She said through a gasp, obviously surprised. But she was still smiling up at him, warm and caring. “What’re you doin’ up?”

Lucio shuffled his feet a little, looking a tad uncomfortable. He wasn’t expecting Portia at all, but he hadn’t had a  _ bad _ experience with her yet. He sighed, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m just looking for my arm. Julian took it a few hours ago, and I’ve no clue what he’s done with it.”

Portia perked up. “Oh, your arm? I think he tossed it to Aisha and Salim in their shop! You know where it is?”

“West wing of the Palace, near the entrance,” Lucio confirmed, looking down the hall, pointing to the correct direction.

Portia nodded. “Yup. If you want, me and Na-milady can walk down there with you.” She looked behind her, Lucio following her gaze. It seemed a little bit more fucked up in there than normal, with sheets everywhere and  _ oh my fuck was that a- _

Portia seemed to have spotted it at the same time he did, closing the door a bit more to hide the object from view. “O-oops! Sorry, about that…” She stammered, flushed almost as red as her hair. Lucio just coughed into his hand.   
“Uhh, don’t worry about it…”

Nadia emerged from the bathroom, hair a bit more messier than usual, and looking vaguely annoyed. “What do you  _ want _ , Lucio?” She groaned. She honestly looked insanely tired, and like she needed a couple more hours. Lucio wondered if he’d woken them up. “I was just here looking for the location of my arm.”

“And  _ I _ offered to have us walk with him down there!” Portia chimed in, any embarrassment gone, instead replaced with her award winning smile. Nadia gave her new lover a soft smile, and Lucio felt a pang in his gut. He’d  _ never _ seen Nadia look at him so soft. Unless he was doing something stupid or endearing or both. But it was never by him just  _ existing _ . He swallowed down the feeling, trying to keep it  _ all _ pushed down. He’d let one person in too close and look at where  _ that _ got him.

Nadia stopped looking at her lover and turned her attention to Lucio. The blonde looked down and away, not sure if he could meet her gaze. He kept his expression demure, instead of the absolute panic and rush of emotion he felt. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure  _ why _ Nadia had kept him around. Or let him even  _ help _ in office. She was Countess, she could technically throw him out of the city and tell him to go die and he’d be able to do nothing to stop it. Instead, she’d let him back into her  _ home _ , let him back onto the  _ council _ , and let him be  _ active _ in Vesuvia’s politics again. It was more than what he deserved.

After a few more seconds of watching him, she shrugged. “Sure. Fine. Give us a moment. Sit outside, Lucio.” Portia gave him a hopeful smile and thumbs up before closing the door softly.

He leaned against the wall beside it, vaguely listening to the…  _ interesting  _ sounds inside. He could probably stand to take a nap, if he was honest. His mind was still fuzzy and his limbs felt slow. He found a comfortable position, still standing up, and let himself rest a bit more.

The women emerged a few moments later, fully dressed but a little out of breath. Portia gently nudged the sleeping man on the wall. “Hey, you awake?”

Lucio started awake, a deep breath confirming that no, he  _ hadn’t _ been awake. “I’m up now,” he admitted, yawning. He stretched for a second before gesturing down the hall. “After you.”

Portia took the lead, practically skipping down the halls as she went. Nadia followed with a soft smile, walking a lot slower. Lucio followed right after her, pace a bit slower than usual. After a few moments, Nadia slowed to keep pace with him, both of them watching Portia continue to march on ahead. “She uh…” Lucio started, watching out of the corner of his eye as Nadia perked up at the sound of his voice. “She seems good for you.”

Nadia hummed, her smile returning. “Mmm, very much so. I appreciate her company quite a lot.” She looked happily after her lover, chuckling as Portia stopped for a second to talk to another staff member.

Lucio looked between them, and felt the pang, harder than before. Jealousy, he realized sharply. He was  _ jealous _ of their relationship. Part of him wanted to yell and scream and ask Nadia  _ why not him? _ But he knew  _ why _ . And he had no right to ask or demand anything from her. So, he bit his tongue, swallowed whatever little remained of his pride, and continued walking. “I’m glad for you,” he managed after a few moments, surprised and relieved that he didn’t sound sad at all. “You deserve it.”

Nadia’s pace faltered for a second, and she stared at him, surprised. It lasted for only a second, though, as her pace returned to normal as her brain caught up. “I… thank you, Lucio,” she said, voice tinged with honest surprise. “I was not expecting that kind of reaction from you.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “And what  _ sort _ of reaction were you  _ expecting _ , my dear? Jealousy?” He gave her a good natured chuckle. She returned it, though it was obvious she  _ was _ expecting that. Or, at least  _ had been _ . Not that he blamed her. He was  _ known _ to be a petty bastard. He frowned, looking ahead. Portia had returned to marching ahead, and Lucio could only feel that pang of jealousy and guilt prick up again.

Nadia seemed to have noticed his frown, her own lips tugging down. “Lucio? What’s wrong?”

He jolted a little, brought out of his thoughts, before shrugging. “It’s nothing, Nadia. C’mon, let’s go.” He picked up his pace, hissing as his thigh complained against him speeding up.

He couldn’t see the worry increase on Nadia’s face, nor the determination that took its place a second later.

Portia knocked on the heavy wooden doors that lead to the shop. Lucio stood awkwardly behind her, Nadia directly beside him. Her arms were crossed, and she looked a little upset. At what, Lucio didn’t even  _ want _ to know. There was a pause. Portia turned back to him and put a finger to her lips. Let  _ her _ do all the talking. Lucio nodded, pretending to zip his lips with a friendly smile. Portia giggled at him, Nadia rolling her eyes, though her smile was back.

The doors opened, and Salim appeared, his eyes bright and his grin wide. “Portia! Nadia!” It dropped when he came to Lucio. “And… Lucio! What a…” He swallowed heavily, looking Lucio up and down. “W-What a nice surprise!”

Lucio had the horrible want to just flee, and ask a servant to get his arm. He managed to keep himself from flinching back and curling into himself, instead giving the other man a sheepish smile and awkward wave. “Heyyy, Salim… eh-uh, long time no see!” He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

Salim’s face remained surprised. He didn’t move for a few moments before whipping his gaze back to Portia and Nadia, smiling widely. “It’s so  _ wonderful _ to see you! I’m guessing you’re here for the arm?” It wasn’t aimed at Lucio. He tried not to let it sting too sharply. (It still did.)

Nadia smiled brightly, and Portia’s face broke into a grin. “Yes, we are,” Nadia confirmed with a gentle nod. “We heard it was being worked on here?”

Salim shrugged, nodding. “Yea, we’ve been workin’ on it off and on all night.” He turned around and waved them in over his shoulder. Portia skipped in, and Nadia started to float in afterwards, until she noticed that Lucio was rooted to the spot, looking awkward. Nadia gestured roughly for him to go. He shook his head. After a back and forth that ended up with her hissing at him under her breath to “ _ go! _ ”, he finally took a deep breath and went inside.

The inside of it was nice. Dark. Warm. Cozy. Everything his bedroom was not. He suddenly felt  _ very _ out of place, with his pure white only broken with slashes of blacks and reds. Like he was a marble statue. Everyone else was in warm or jewel colors, and almost blended in. He fidgeted, standing near a table close to the door. Further in, he spotted Aisha, crouched over something, busy. The other three walked closer, Salim walking up to his wife and putting gentle hands on her shoulders. She perked up, and he watched as they talked.

It was clear that he wasn’t welcomed there. He fought down the urge to panic and bolt that welled up in his throat, putting his hand on the table and drumming his fingers. He watched as Salim re-introduced his wife to the Countess and Portia, with a bright smile and happy eyes. However, the second he turned to Lucio, it died, and the smile turned to a sneer. “And they brought Lucio with them.”

Lucio gave a small little smile and a little hand wave, trying to look as unintimidating as possible. Aisha still went a few shades paler than normal and took a step back. Lucio couldn’t even help himself as his smile fell and he looked away, trying to look as apologetic as he could. He  _ knew _ it’d never be enough. Not to them, not to their child. He hadn’t been thinking, nor was he entirely sure he was even in control of his body, half the time. Those thoughts  _ still _ haunted him.  _ What if the Devil came back? _

Sure, the goat was in bonds, but that didn’t mean jackshit. Not really. Not when it came to what  _ he _ did. Because even though they had ample evidence to prove that Lucio hadn’t been in control all the time, most people  _ still _ wouldn’t, nor didn’t, believe him. It hurt, not knowing all the pain and suffering he’d caused. He still had people calling for his head, demanding that he be shot dead. Or hung. “Replace his life for Julian’s!” Someone had shouted, knowing full well the doctor was alive and fine.  _ That _ one had given him nightmares, mainly because they’d found the person that said that prowling around the gardens outside his wing of the Palace, apparently trying to find a way in. It had left him up and scared for weeks after the fact, sometimes waking up sobbing.

The doors creaked open, pulling him out of his reverie. Asra stepped through, smiling warmly at his parents and friends. The second he spotted Lucio, though, his face went flat. Overly calm. Perfectly measured. “Lucio,” he greeted curtly as he walked by.

“... Asra,” he returned, and God, did he just squeak? He hoped he didn’t just squeak.

The magician ignored him, walking over to his friends and family, smile returning. The five of them continued to speak for a moment, the doors only now cracked open. Lucio watched them, and that moment stretched on. The second that he saw them start to laugh, and heard that laughter float over to him, he decided that enough was enough. He quickly and quietly snuck back up the stairs, to the door, and walked out.

The hallway was empty, and the sun was nearly blinding as it hit the Palace walls. He took in a deep breath, nearly gulping down the air, and walked to the opposite wall, lined with windows. He stared out them for a while, watching the breeze blow through the grass and bushes and trees in the gardens below. Finally, he released the breath, turned around, put his back against the window, and slid down to the floor. His head ached. He hadn’t yet eaten, and his sleep had been troubled at best. His thigh sighed in relief at the fact that it wasn’t being forced to stand up anymore. He sat there, relaxing against the cool stone, feeling a little feverish. He hoped he wasn’t sick. That would suck.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind currently blank, filled with static and white noise, watching as dust motes floated across the sunbeams. He watched and slowly counted them down as the sun slowly changed position in the sky. It wasn’t until a long time later that the doors softly cricked open, making him look towards them.

Portia was poking her head out, looking down the other way of the hall. Once she spotted him, however, she gave him an apologetic smile and “snuck” over. “Sorry about that,” she said quietly, almost whispering. “They’re uh… still, talking.”

Lucio shrugged. “It’s fine. I get it, catching up and all.” He put on a gentle smile, though in truth, he felt more alone than he had in… months. Years. He didn’t show it, though. Probably wasn’t a good idea. Somehow, Portia saw through it, frowning. “What’s wrong, Lucio?”

He sighed. “I’m just feeling alone, that’s all,” he admitted, freezing up almost instantly afterwards. Too much,  _ too much _ .

“Feeling alone?” She parroted, cocking her head. “What do you mean,  _ feeling alone _ ?” If he was trying to read into her tone, he would say she was being accusatory.

He grimaced. “It’s, ah, nothing, Portia. I’m fine, really.” He turned to her, and plastered on a big, cocky smile. “See?” He even almost  _ sounded _ like himself. Or, what they all perceived to be himself. Honestly, he didn’t even know who he was.

Thankfully (or maybe regretfully), Portia didn’t take the bait. She frowned, glaring at him. “I’m not believing you,” she huffed, looking annoyed. Lucio flinched a little at her words, smile dropping. He averted his eyes, and he could  _ hear _ her lean back against the wall, cross her arms, and look dead ahead at the door. “You know, both you and my brother can be so  _ dense _ sometimes.”

He hoped she didn’t see him jump at the mere  _ mention _ of her brother. It made him remember the night before, and made him want to vomit. He honestly didn’t know if he could stand to look Julian in the eye anymore. “You both pretend that you’re “all fine”,” she continued on, voice going higher and mocking at the “all fine”, “but in truth, you’re hurting inside and refuse to let anyone else help.”

He stared down the hall, not really  _ seeing _ anything. Portia had just caught him out in his biggest lie, not that he could let her know. He curled in on himself, making sure to keep looking away. He couldn’t exactly let  _ anyone _ help, not when it would be misconstrued as him seeking attention. He just had to deal with his problems all on his own, without help. He was already back and lost in his own thoughts before he felt an insistent hand on his shoulder. “Lucio,” Portia started, looking at him with deep worry. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed heavily, feeling his panic rise up, looking away sharply, laughing nervously. “Wrong? Nothing’s  _ wrong _ , dear Portia,” he lied, speaking too quickly. “I’m just fine! Just… want my arm back, is all.” It wasn’t the  _ entire _ truth, but he hoped it would be enough that she’d let it lie. He looked back at her, watching her expression. There was still that deep worry, but she pulled back, sighing heavily, a look of resignation on her face.

“Fine,” she said, annoyed. “If you aren’t gonna tell me, I’m not gonna pry.” She put her hands up in surrender, standing up. “I’ll go see about your arm.” She walked back in quickly, nearly slamming the door behind her, loud enough to make him flinch.

It echoed down the halls, leaving him feeling even more completely, and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suffer. That's all, just... suffer. :3c


	7. It's hard being left behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio gets his arm back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy, so unable to work on chapters. I should have 10 done soon.

He sat there, all alone, the silence deafening. There was no sound that came from the thick, oak doors, and the cold, marble floors and walls were deathly empty. Only occasionally would he hear a door close from far in the distance, and he’d look that way, half hoping to see someone appear, but they never did. He always went back to looking straight ahead at the other wall.

It was nearly noon by the time the doors reopened, the sun high in the sky, casting gleaming light throughout the entire hall. Nadia and Portia stepped out, smiling and laughing, his arm in the latter’s arms. Asra and his parents were just inside, smiling and waving them off. They didn’t even seem to notice him as the doors shut, Nadia and Portia still giggling from whatever had been said inside. Lucio… tried not to let it sting too much. He bounced up as much as he could, looking excitedly at his arm.

Portia and Nadia’s expressions fell into ones of painful neutrality. He paused, his own grin faltering. It tried to come back, but looked painful, not real. He swallowed heavily, chuckling awkwardly. “I uh… I gotta say thanks for grabbing my arm…!” He pointed at it, quickly pulling his hand back at the death glare Nadia gave him. He leaned a bit back, smile falling entirely. After a few seconds of them glaring at him, he looked off and away to the side. “I’m sorry…”

“For  _ what _ ?” They asked at the same time, two different tones of annoyance. He flinched back a little, arm coming up to protect him from nothing. “For… leaving you…” He thought that was what they were annoyed at. That he hadn’t sat there and listened. He wasn’t sure, though. It was hard to be sure.

Nadia raised an eyebrow, and Portia’s frown (or maybe it was a pout) got deeper. “ _ That’s _ what you think we’re angry about?” Nadia’s tone boarded on accusatory, her arms now crossed. “You  _ leaving _ .” It isn’t a question.

“Without saying goodbye?” He tried again, but given the higher tilt of Nadia’s eyebrow, he’d say he’d failed. He honestly didn’t know. He didn’t know what he’d missed, like he always did before. Was there something in the tone? The way that he spoke? Was it _too_ arrogant this time? Had he knocked something over? What had he _failed_ _at this time?_

Portia’s sniffle brought him out of his own claustrophobic thoughts. She was  _ crying _ . He felt shock and horror, stomach churning at the idea that she was crying because of  _ him _ . The one person he’d been trying to keep as even somewhat a friend was crying because of him. She thrust out the arm, not looking at him. “Just take your fucking arm…”

“Portia…” He held out his hand, not for the arm, but for her, worry etched on his face.

“Just take it!” She yelled, shaking it. Her fingers gripped the metal as hard as they could go. He worried about her possibly hurting herself, even if the sharp bits weren’t on it. He looked, pleadingly, to Nadia for help. Instead, he was met with cold indifference. “Take the arm.” The words were just as cold as her look.

He looked helplessly between them for a bit more before gently grabbing the metal arm. He slowly plucked it out of Portia’s grasp, and holding it close to him. “I uh…” He looks between it and her for a second before swallowing heavily. “Thank you.” He looked as apologetic as he could, though he knew his apologies looked like him pouting.

Nadia put an arm around her lover and left with a huff. The two were around a corner and just out of sight before he heard Portia sob. He decided to take the long way back.

He walked down the seemingly endless halls, surprised that he hadn’t really ran into anyone. Even after he’d gone down what were normally fairly active halls. It was as if everyone was avoiding him… Which, to be fair, he was kind of a dick. Even now, working on his problems and slew of issues, he wasn’t exactly a  _ good person _ . Julian had basically said so himself.

He stopped dead in his tracks, pitching forward a second. His stomach roiled and he felt bile crawl up the back of his tongue. It was hard to believe that had just been last night. It felt like half a lifetime ago. He didn’t even realize he was about to drop his arm onto the marble floors until he felt it start to slip. He squeaked, and readjusted his grip. He stared down at the shiny metal, impressed by how clean it was. He almost felt… bad. No, he  _ did _ feel bad.

Why should they have to clean the arm he used and abused them for? It was  _ his _ arm now. Not theirs. They were just being nice to him. It tasted like death in his mouth. He swallowed down his regrets and walked to his room, silence overtaking him. It didn’t feel like his home anymore, and he wondered if that’s how  _ any _ of Vesuvia felt when they walked these halls. Like it wasn’t their home anymore. Like the Palace was just a pretty crown on an otherwise dull and bleak town.

He found himself regarding an old portrait. It was of a past Count, the one right before him. He’d been a bit of a pudgy man, never had fought a day in his life. He’d had long white hair and an equally long and white beard. The man was paler than Lucio, and infinitely more weaker. Lucio had managed to crawl his way into the man’s good graces with the war, and a few other…  _ party tricks _ .

He sneered at the memory, regretting his decisions. He should’ve at least made the fucker pay him more money. As it stood, however, the past was the past, and the man was long dead. Head separated from his body by Lucio’s own hand. It had been a satisfying end. He frowned, memories coagulating in the front of his mind. He’d remembered how  _ happy _ Vesuvia had been then. Sure, he hadn’t been a  _ great _ Count himself, personally, but the last one had practically robbed them for all that they were worth. He’d returned some of the cash flow back to Vesuvia, and it had been a big part of his tax reform. Still, he could’ve done better,  _ should _ have done better. But he didn’t.

He guessed he’d been staring at the painting for too long because someone cleared their throat beside him. He turned to his left, and saw one of Nadia’s many siblings. They’re staring at the painting, not speaking. After a few seconds, they lean in, stage whispering, “Yanno, I never liked that Count.”

Lucio smiled, an honest one. “Yea, I never quite liked him either.”

They look at him, magenta eyes twinkling. “I’m not quite sure I liked the second Count that came after him that much either.” It’s a joke, it’s obviously a joke, and it manages to make him laugh. He cackled at it, snorting. “Yea, he was kinda a shit person too.”

The stranger snickered, gently shoving him before holding out a hand. “Nazali Stratinava, at your service.” Their eyes twinkle as they add on, “or, maybe not?”

He chuckled, shaking their hand as he replied, “No, most certainly not. Lucio Morgasson, former Count.”

They release each other a second later, still smiling. “So, whatcha got there?” They gesture to his arm, still held in his hand. It takes him a moment to register. “Oh! My arm. I uh… it needed repairs, so a friend of mine sent it in.” Not quite a lie, but truth enough that it wouldn’t seem off.

Nazali cocked a playful eyebrow. “You have friends?”

His smile and the small bark of laughter after their question turns bitter. “No, not anymore.” He managed to come off not as lonely or upset as he feels. It still carves his heart out of his chest. He looked back to the painting, and felt vaguely like he was suffocating. Nazali looked back as well, and they fell into a semi-comfortable silence. Finally, they break it.

“Do you need help getting it back on?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it.” He returned his attention to them, smiling as warmly as he could. “Thank you, though.”

They nod, smile returning. “No problem, Lucio. Actually, I came here to see Dia. Do you know if she’s around?”

Lucio felt his face pale, and he must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, because Nazali’s face fell as well. “Is she ok?”

He snapped out of it, smile returning (albeit a lot weaker), and holding up his hand in surrender. “Oh no, she’s fine. She’s probably back in her room. I can show it to you, if you need to?” He thrusts a thumb behind him, down a hall that leads to her room. Nazali shook their head, putting up a hand. “No, I can get there just fine. Have a good day, Lucio.” With that, they practically skip down the hall, leaving him alone once again.

He took in a deep breath and let it out all at once, humming softly. He stared back up the portrait, silent for a few moments. “Yanno… I liked you better when I was in the portrait.” He does a sharp turn and continues down the hall, away from the painting.

He entered his room, half expecting to see his dogs. He doesn’t, though, and their absence makes his heart hurt. He missed them already, making him remember how almost  _ cruelly _ he treated them last night. He hoped they were alright. He knew not everyone in the Palace liked them. He felt his anxiety spiking in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He took off his coat and shirt, holding his mechanical hand.

He stared down at it. The gleaming metal seemed to mock him, in a way, reflecting his face back to him. He bit down the urge to smash it, like the many hallway mirrors he’d smashed in his younger years. Instead, he took in a deep breath, aligned the remaining stump of his human arm, and pushed it in. He hissed at the biting feeling, growling and snarling as it all slowly came back to life. Nerves reconnected and his shoulder starting to ache anew with the weight and feeling.

After a few moments, it finished reattaching itself, and Lucio flexed his hand. It moved just as it should. He stood up and sighed, looking at himself in the long mirror on his wall. He frowned, turning to face it head on.

He was starting to grow stubble, which, honestly, wasn’t a surprise, but it was how  _ gaunt _ he’d gotten in the past few months that left him a little bit horrified. He wasn’t as thin as he was in the Plague-era, but he was thinner than usual. His hair was still a couple shades too dark from the dye, the style not quite as perfect as he usually did it in. His eyes were still vaguely red from crying, and were still somewhat puffy. The circles under them were terrible, and just as a whole, he looked like he’d picked a fight with his own mental demons and lost. Horribly.

Which wasn’t  _ exactly _ wrong, as his thigh twinged with pain. He grunted, grimacing at the pain, watching himself in the mirror. He drew his weight up onto his other leg, feeling instant relief. He should also probably change the bandages on his injured leg, see if it was infected or something. He hoped not. He’d be disappointed in himself if it was.

He limped into the bathroom, hissing as he wiggled out of his pants. He let them drop to the floor, and looked at the bandages. They were, thankfully, not that spotted with blood. He gently unwound them, pleased to not smell any infection. It took a little while, but once he was done, he looked at the injury, and felt himself smile. It was, in fact, healing correctly. It’d leave a nasty scar, but that was about the worst of his injury. He found some more bandages and antibiotics, intending to rebandage, when his bedroom door flew open, and a very worried Julian skidded in.

He jumped, surprised more by the banging of the door. Julian stood in his bedroom for a few moments before his head turned to him. Worried hadn’t been the actual expression, now that Lucio could get a good look at him.  _ Furious _ was the  _ actual _ expression. He turned to him, finger pointing at him accusatory, snarling in rage. “ _ You…! _ ”

Lucio flinched back, the memories of last night slamming up into his skull and leaving him weak. He could feel himself trembling as the red-head approached, stalking forward and looking about five seconds away from punching him. “... you.”

“... me?” Lucio squeaked, trying to make himself as small as possible. Julian reared back, looking disgusted. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what you did.”

Lucio blinked at him, trying to process. “I made… Portia cry?” That he  _ knew _ he did, he just didn’t know how or why. She had just come out and been upset at him, and he  _ still _ had no idea why. He suspected he was about to know, though.

“And no explanation on your part?” Julian crossed his arms, tapping his toe like an angry parent. Lucio shook his head. “I don’t even know what I did, if I’m honest.”

Julian cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know what you did?” He parroted back, obviously not believing him. Lucio shook his head again. “No, I’m being honest. She just came out of the workshop, practically threw my arm at me, and then she and Noddy-, er, Nadia, left. I ended up taking the long way back to my room so I could give them space.” He was praying that Julian didn’t notice his leg, as having him pissed for more than two reasons would probably leave Lucio wanting to throw himself out into the yard from his window. He probably would, actually.

Instead, Julian leaned in close, face inches from him. Lucio leaned back, nearly sliding off the counter with how far he was leaning back. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Ask Nazali! They were with me! At least, for a little, they can back up my story.” At least, he  _ hoped _ they would. They seemed like a good sort. Too good to be hanging out with him, that was for sure. However, that didn’t seem to be the right answer, because Julian’s eye narrowed even further. “How do you know Nazali?”

Lucio shrunk further into the cold, hard marble countertop, swallowing heavily. “I just met them? Not even twenty minutes ago? W-we were looking at a painting in one of the main halls, and they stopped to talk to me for a couple of moments before going to look for Noddy- I mean, Countess Nadia.”

Julian stayed there for a few seconds, keeping the pressure on Lucio before suddenly standing straight up and marching out. There was no explanation, and Lucio was left almost calling out after him as the door slammed shut. That was it. It was over and done with and Lucio could feel stomach bile rising in his throat. He slowly raised his arms, holding himself from the awkward position he was laying in. He listened to the footsteps fade down the hall before quickly rebandaging his injury, maybe a bit sloppily, but hey, who cared? He pulled up his pants and had his shirt back on before he heard reapproaching footsteps. He cursed under his breath, throwing his jacket back on and starting to reattach the sharper, metal pieces before the door flew open again.

Nadia floated in, looking as annoyed and frustrated with him as ever, Asra and Julian close on her heels. He managed to only swallow instead of the gulp he so  _ desperately _ wanted to do, and turned to look at them. He gave them a weak smile, waving with his flesh hand. “Hey, guys…! What’re ah…” He swallowed again, trying to keep his composure. “What’re you all doin’ here…?”

“We came to tell you about your dogs,” Nadia growled, not even looking at him.

Lucio felt all the color drain out of his face. “My dogs? What happened to them, what did they do?” He hoped they hadn’t gone after Portia’s cat. They’d  _ seemed _ friendly enough with her, playing and being more gentle with her. “Oh god,  _ please _ don’t tell me they maimed her cat.”

Asra and Julian quirked their eyebrows and shared a look, obviously surprised that he was worried about her cat. Nadia was too, in fact, enough so that she looked up at him. “Uh, no, they just all three arrived at her cottage. It seemed the dogs had been out all night, and Pepi just found them this morning,” she answered.

Lucio released a sigh before panic seized him again. “Wait,  _ they were out all night?! _ ” He stammered. “Who could’ve let them do such a thing?”

Nadia raised a hand, demanding his silence, which he respectfully gave. “I do not know, nor do I entirely care,” he flinched a little at her words, looking away, “but I do know they’re safe and fine for the time being.”

Lucio nodded, staring at the handle of a drawer. “Thank you for telling me, Noddy- Countess. I’ll be sure to collect them later.”

“Don’t.”

Lucio looked up at her, blinking rapidly, confused. “What?”

She waved her hand, fixing him with a pointed glare. “Don’t bring them back inside the Palace. They aren’t welcome here.”

He started to stammer and stutter, panic gripping his throat. “W-wait, there’s gotta be some kinda mistake! I-I’ve been trainin’ ‘em like ya said, Noddy! They don’t really get up onto the couches anymore, they aren’t jumping or barking or biting anymore, they’re quieter, they’re softer, they-they’re startin’ to listen more, wha… why aren’t they allowed in anymore?”

“It’s because we don’t feel they’re safe here anymore,” Asra said, jumping into the conversation. “We don’t think they’re safe around  _ you _ .”

_ Wake me up, wake me up, please wake me up from whatever horrible nightmare I’m in _ , Lucio pleaded internally. It  _ had _ to be a nightmare. Real life wasn’t this cruel to him. “Wha-what do you mean, they aren’t safe around me?”

The other three rolled their eyes and made various exasperated sounds, Asra closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You just  _ abandoned them _ last night to go off on some sort of…  _ excursion _ without a care in the world as to if they were going to be kept safe or not!”

“They were  _ here? _ What sort of threat do they have against them  _ here? _ ”

“Most people in the Palace don’t like them,” Nadia explained, sounding firm but a bit more kind than before. “If someone wanted to, they could’ve hurt or killed them.”

Lucio felt something click into place in the back of his head. “Then they could’ve done that during the three  _ years _ I was  _ dead _ .” He glared at them, crossing his arms. “Why not then, why  _ now _ ?”

The entire energy in the room shifted, and now it was  _ their turn _ to be awkward and quiet. After a few moments of them squirming in place, Lucio raised his hand. “Look, if you didn’t want me to have my dogs,  _ fine _ , then just  _ say that _ .” Any energy he had left, sucked out by emotions and drama and his leg. “Just… make sure they’re well fed, is all that I ask.”

Nadia looked at him, confused, before looking at the other two. Julian just stared at him, vaguely slack jawed, Asra shrugging. Nadia’s gaze returned to him, sharp as a whip. “That’s it?”

Lucio shrugged, looking at the footboard of the bed. “That’s it.”

“No  _ actual fighting _ ?”

He shrugged again. “You’re the Countess, Countess. Not exactly much I can do…” He felt bitterness seep into his body, his voice, and tears prick at his eyes.

There was a silence before Asra released a long breath. “Welp, I think that’s it! C’mon, then.” He led the other two out of the room, the door closing behind them. The second it did, he heard them talk for a second before laughing, their footsteps disappearing down the hall. He knew they were probably laughing at something else, or just relief, but he still couldn’t help but feel it was at him. He held himself for a second before his metal arm sneaked under the sleeve of his flesh.

Dragging the claws down it had never felt so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Did I mention this fic gets dark?


	8. Deep Ocean Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible new friend emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, more angst.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, just staring at the wall. The portrait mocked him, reminding him of who he once was. It made him want to gouge the eyes out of that one, too. They’d yet to repair or replace the portraits in his hall, though he supposed that was fair. Even now, most people dodged the hall, though for more than just “Ghost” reasons. His metal hand would occasionally trace patterns into the wood, and his flesh just laid weakly on the bed, still oozing blood. It dripped onto the bed, turning what was normally white sheets crimson. He didn’t know if he had the energy to get up and fix it, if he was honest with himself.

So he sat there, until it was near night time. The sun’s dying rays washed over him, and he sighed. He needed to get up, change the sheets, and at least take another bath. He felt gross. So, he stood, and slowly got to work changing the sheets. It was fairly easy, thankfully, and he stared down at the bloodstain. It was honestly huge, nearly the size of his thigh, and had bleed down into the bed. He stood there for a few moments, just staring, before fully removing the ruined sheets and tossing them into the laundry bin. Finding the new ones was easy (he’d seen the servants do it a million times before), as was actually redoing the bed. Once he had, he wandered into the bathroom, and set about doing his nightly routine.

He pointedly stared  _ away _ from the mirror, because he knew that if he looked, he would end up smashing it with one of his hands. So, choosing the more cost effective route, he ignored it. The entire process of cleaning up his arm, now that most of the blood had dried, was annoying at best. He scrubbed it off as well as he could, but he still opened up the wounds, hissing as they did so. He groaned, realizing he’d have to fix them up, glaring at them, as if they had,  _ personally _ done him wrong. Eventually, though, he grabbed some bandages and antibiotics and fixed it up.

It took him nearly an hour to finish everything, the sun now almost fully set, night’s soft freckling of stars blinking out. He stared at them through the mostly window doors that lead out onto his balcony. It was beautiful tonight, and he could see the galaxy beyond. He leaned against the door frame, suddenly dizzy. He swore under his breath as he rubbed his head, temples pounding. It took him a few until he realized that he hadn’t eaten yet. Probably not the entire day. He frowned at himself, but didn’t actively move to do anything. He figured he would survive a day or two without food. He’d done so before.

So busy was he in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked in. It wasn’t until they whistled that he turned around sharply, eyes wide and wild before they spotted them.

“Nazali,” he breathed, unsure why he felt calm, all of a sudden. They grinned at him, sauntering over and leaning on the other side of the doorframe. “Hey’ya, Count-o.” They gave him a wink, and Lucio was struck by just how  _ much _ of Julian that reminded him of. Probably the reverse was actually true, if they were Nadia’s older sibling.

It took him a moment to catch up, swallowing heavily before managing a rather weak, “Hello.” They, thankfully, didn’t even really blink, turning to look out at the night sky as well. “It’s pretty out here.”

Lucio nodded, following their gaze. “It is.”

The two of them remained silent for a while, until Nazali spoke up. “Julian talks a lot about you, you know.”

Lucio’s startled from his thoughts, his gaze turning to them faster than his head appreciates. He suppresses the hiss of pain at the dizziness sloshing through his skull as he speaks. “Oh? About what?”

They shrug, not looking at him. “Everything about you. How cute you are, how nice you smell…”

“I smell nice?” It’s barely a thought, and it escaped his lips before he could stop it. He flushed wildly, probably looking like a tomato. They grin at him, winking. “I told him that’d get cha. He didn’t believe me, saying that you’d probably heard that all the time.”

Lucio felt his flush deepen, indignant as he responded, “Yeah, well not from him!” He knew he probably looked like Old Lucio as he gestures wildly, pacing around his room. “Why doesn’t he ever  _ tell me _ this kinda stuff! I like being told that kinda stuff! It makes me feel nice!”

“It makes you feel nice?” Nazali teased, quirking an eyebrow and crossing their arms. “What  _ else _ makes you feel nice?” At Lucio’s scowl, they waved a hand, friendly and placating. “Just to… pass the message along.”

Lucio looked away, silent, thinking. “... when he holds me…” It’s embarrassing to say the least, but it felt  _ good _ to get it out. “I like it when he holds me and cares about me and I…” He stopped, realizing he was holding himself again and dropping his arms. “I  _ really _ fucked that up, didn’t I?” His voice cracked on the words, feeling tears threaten to spill out again. “ _ God _ , if he ever talks to me again…” He looked at the footboard, feeling his own despair eating at him.

Nazali pushed off from the wall and walked over, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Lies.”

His surprise left him looking up at them, knowing his panic was plain on his face. They had their hands on their hips, an eyebrow raised, and a vaguely annoyed face. They weren’t going to let him go, he knew that, and he accepted his fate. He sat down heavily on the bed, head in his hands, before patting beside him. They walked over, and sat down, leaning back a bit, watching him. He sat there for a few moments before sighing heavily.

“I’m just… constantly afraid that everything I do won’t ever be enough… I mean…” He sat up a little, gesturing to nothing but memories, “I technically  _ caused the Plague _ , I’ve killed thousands, both directly and  _ in _ directly, I’ve tortured people, I’ve locked them up, I’ve been acting like a  _ brat _ , and that’s just the sorta normal, vague, overall shit. That doesn’t explain the specifics, like locking Asra’s parents up, throwing Muriel into the Coliseum, forcing Julian to eat a Plague beetle, and the list goes on!” He waved his hand at the wall angrily. “I’ve also nearly fucking killed them, and I went against Julian’s word and went to the Raven all on my own and they took my dogs and now I’m all alone up in my silver tower,” a gesture around the room, “with only you here who’s even being  _ nice _ to me, and I’m just…”

“Alone?” Their voice is soft, understanding.

Lucio nodded, looking solemnly at the ground. “Very much so.  _ Very _ alone… More alone than I’ve ever felt…” His metal claw sneakily teases under his jacket, across his arm, making small nicks that would barely bleed. He’d done it for years before, long before he’d become a Count. Except it had been with a knife and on his left hand instead of his right, but hey, who was counting. He gently removed it slowly, enough that Nazali wouldn’t notice.

They both sat there for a while, silent, until a loud crack of thunder made them both jump. “What the fuck…?” Nazali stood up, stomping over to the windows and glaring out. Sure enough, a thunderstorm had erupted outside, heavy rains battering the windows. Lucio stood up and followed them, gazing out. He felt distant, and the blurriness of the town beyond seemed to emphasize how he felt. Nazali cursed under their breath, turning to him and sighing. “I’ll go check on Nadia. Have you eaten today?” Their expression fell into a worried frown. “They’d mentioned you came straight to them once you’d woken up.”

He started to shrug, but stopped, and shook his head. “No, I’ve yet to eat today.”

They grumbled something in their native language, turning to leave. “I’ll make sure Julian brings you something to eat.” Lucio raised a hand and opened his mouth, about to say something along the lines of, “but a servant can do that”, before they nearly slammed the door behind them. He watched the door for a while, hand falling and mouth closing, listening to their footsteps disappear. Once they had, he sighed heavily, walking back over to the bed, and nearly collapsing onto it.

He was tired, and he ached, his leg feeling numb from the amount he’d stood on it. So, he sat there, watching the rain pour down and batter the poor window. Occasionally, lightning would split the sky, and thunder would boom through the air, and he would have to force his head down. It was bringing back bad memories of the battlefield. He remembered watching the Captain’s head be split from his body by a cannonball, the smile that came right before it, and it played through his head in slow motion, and he felt the bile rising in his throat and he was about to vomit again and-

The door swung open, and an annoyed Julian appeared, carrying a tray of food. “For the last  _ time _ , Lucio, you need to learn to eat.”

Lucio was hit with deja vu, and forced himself to swallow. He looked down at his arms, terrified that he would find it’s white magic blood red, his skin too pale and laced with violently scarlet veins. Instead, it was normal. Same white magic. Same, normal veins. Skin healthily pale skin, not the corpse gray he’d been. He wasn’t in the too loose shirt, he wasn’t in sleep pants. He clicked his heels against the floor, feeling comfort at the vibrations coming up through the hard, strong wood of them.

Julian frowned at him as he put the food down on the bed, kneeling in front of the other man and letting his hand drift up to the blond’s face. “Lucio…? Are you wi-,” he took in a deep breath, and looked down. He swallowed, and forced himself to look up and rephrase. “Are you here right now?”

Lucio sat there for a moment, brain trying to dredge itself out of memories, before he nodded slowly. “I’m here…” His hand floats up to press against Julian’s. They sat there for a second before Lucio leaned into the touch, humming softly.

They remained like that, silence echoing around them, occasionally broken by the rare footstep and clap of thunder. Their breaths balanced out, evening, and Julian felt it was safe enough to start to get up, to start to leave, and that seemed to break it all.

Lucio sobbed, tumbling forward, straight into Julian’s arms. The taller man grunted at the sudden weight, nearly falling flat onto his back with it. Instead, he just fell back onto his ass, now with a lap full of sobbing ex-Count. He blinked, confused as to where this came from. This wasn’t Lucio, was it? No, it couldn’t be… Could it?

He mulled it over mentally as he wrapped his arms around the shorter man, holding him close. It made him slightly uncomfortable how hard Lucio sobbed. As if he was losing a limb or a family member or just…  _ something _ important. He didn’t ask what had happened, though, instead, just holding onto Lucio, holding him tight, and pressing his nose into his hair.

It didn’t smell of warmth and fire and roses as it had the last time. It smelled vaguely of blood and sadness and the dye that remained. He almost gagged at the smell, but instead, he pressed soft kisses into his hair, across his hairline, against his temple, shushing and humming the entire while. He ran his hands up and down Lucio’s back, feeling the man hiccup and weep. It took him a while to realize that Lucio was  _ trying _ to speak. It was between sharp intakes of breath and chest rattling sobs, but he  _ was _ speaking.

“I’m sorry, I don’t deserve you, please just let me die, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I should’ve died, I should’ve remained dead, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, God, know I’m sorry…” It was all some variant of those, some version, some combination. And it was  _ heartbreaking _ to hear. And to hear it coming from  _ Lucio _ , of all people, was especially gut wrenching.

Julian pressed the man as tight as he could against him, feeling tears prick at his own eyes. Lucio seemed to catch on, eventually wrapping his arms around Julian, face buried into his shoulder, sobbing and barely managing to get out the smallest, softest, “I’m sorry”’s. Eventually, the sobs settled down to sniffles, and the words were only occasionally hiccuped out. Lucio was gripping Julian’s shirt with his human hand tightly, the metal hung low and not used. It was… frightening to say the least. They sat there for a while longer, and Julian looked up to the (undoubtedly) now cold food. “C’mon, let's get you to eat.”

“‘M not hungry…” It’s almost a whine mumbled into his shoulder, Lucio gripping him tight and curling in ever more. Julian adjusted, debating if he should shove him off. He thought it over and over again in his mind before he decided against it. He held him tight once more, leaning his head against Lucio’s. “C’mon, Lucio, you need to eat.”

“Not my name…”

“What?”

“Not my name!” It’s not said very loud, but it still vibrated Julian’s shoulder where it was said. He sighed internally, nodding. “Ok… ok Montag.” He pressed a kiss to the man’s temple, a hand drifting up to pet his hair. “C’mon, Montag, you need to eat.”

Lucio, Montag, whined again, but his grip loosened slightly. Julian took this as his cue and let himself sit up a bit further, the other man falling out of his lap and sitting, pitifully, on the floor. He didn’t sit up straight, he didn’t even really move. Just sat there like a discarded doll. It hurt Julian’s heart in a way he didn’t think it ever could. He picked up the tray and set it on the floor, watching Lucio for any signs of life, of movement. Instead, there was nothing. Not even an adjustment of the head to say that, yes, the tray  _ had _ been placed against the floor. He was silent, practically dead.

Actually, he was breathing so softly that Julian  _ did _ fear he was dead for a moment. He pressed his fingers to the side of Lucio’s neck, checking for his pulse. It was going just fine. It just seemed that the crying session took any remaining energy out of the man. And, if what Nazali had told him was true, Lucio hadn’t eaten in…  _ hours _ . A possibly disturbing amount of them, actually. But, as he knelt back down to get a better look at Lucio’s face, he could tell just how  _ tired _ the man was.

Lucio’s face was surprisingly neutral from what he could see, his eyes barely open, the dark circles under said eyes almost black from lack of sleep. He looked almost like a corpse, and Julian refrained from shivering at that thought. Instead, he let his hand gently curl under Lucio’s chin. He softly brought the other man’s gaze to him, the pale silver eyes flicking up to him, glazed and glossy.  _ Like a porcelain doll, _ his mind provided, an air of sadness and a tinge of horror around the words. So, if Lucio couldn’t be handled like gold right now…

He’d treat him like porcelain.

He didn’t really huff or sigh as he rearranged Lucio’s limbs, picking him up bridal style and gently setting him, sitting, on the bed. With efficiency that only comes from being a bed-side doctor for years, he starts to pick apart the laces on Lucio’s boots. Once those are done, and the boots are slid off, it’s a matter of doing the top next. The sash was easy, and the jacket was surprisingly simple to get off. The buttons slid through their respective slots easily, almost like water. He was about to slide it down when Lucio suddenly seemed to “wake up”, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip. “Don’t…” It was raspy, and barely sounded like him.

Julian turned, face twisted into an expression of anger, before pausing. Lucio was wide eyed, obviously afraid of…  _ something _ . And Julian wanted to get to the bottom of it. So, he forced down his anger (and pain, because he didn’t realize how painful the metal hand was), and put his free hand gently against Lucio’s face. “Lucio, I promise, there’s nothing I’m going to see that’s going to upset me.”

The stricken, panicked expression didn’t go away. However, Lucio did let Julian’s wrist go, and watched. He was somehow paler than he was when ill. Julian stared him in the eyes for a few more seconds before returning to sliding Lucio’s jacket off. He did the left arm first, and then the right, and about dropped all his decorum.

The gashes there were  _ long _ , from mid-upper arm down to nearly his wrist. And the smaller, barely there nicks across his inner arm, close to his elbow, left a very clear tale. He shot a withering glare at Lucio, obviously demanding an explanation. Lucio swallowed heavily, stammering as he answered, “I-I got into a fight with a cat…”

“One  _ hell _ of a cat scratch you got there.”

“It was a barely domesticated one.”

Julian raised an obviously unbelieving eyebrow. “What, like a serval?”

“Yea. That.”

Julian wants to scrutinize the story, to tear it down, to know what  _ actually _ happened, but in the same vein… He knows Lucio won’t give up the entire story, as he tended to be a secretive person. So, he shrugged and let it go. “Just make sure to patch it up.”

Lucio stared at him in awe, confused as to why he just let it go, but also not complaining. He nodded, calming down slightly. “Yea, ok, I will.”

Once the jacket was off, Julian walked across the room to hang it up. When he turned back around, Lucio had taken off and folded his pants, and was now sitting there, legs under the covers. He held out the white pants for Julian to take, looking down at the bedsheets, a soft blush tainting his cheeks. Part of him wanted to demand Lucio to tell him why he didn’t let Julian take care of him fully, but he was also grateful. So, he took the pants, put them away, and picked the tray back up.

He frowned down at the food, noticing that it was already cold. No heat radiated off of it, at all, and the metal was nearly like ice. Not good. He sighed heavily, looking at Lucio apologetically. “It seems the food’s gone cold… I’ll go get you some more.”

Lucio waved a hand, looking nonplussed, surprisingly. “It’s  _ fine _ , Jules. Like I said, I’m not that hungry anyways…”

Julian scowled at him. “But you’ve not eaten all day-”

“I  _ said _ , I’m fine,” Lucio repeated, surprisingly patient. He gave a soft smile. “Really, I’m ok.”

Julian felt an abnormal anger well up in his chest.  _ Why _ was Lucio so calm? The man was obviously injured, hadn’t eaten, and was clearly hiding something. But at the same time… that wasn’t his place to pry. His grip on the tray tightened, and he tossed Lucio a haughty look. “Fine then. I’ll just take this back to the kitchens and let them give it to the castle dogs.” He was expecting Lucio to get angry back, or to beg.

But instead, the man just shrugged. “Sure. Just make sure some also gets to my dogs.” With that, he flopped over, brought the covers over him, and laid there. Julian stood there, flabbergasted, mouth open, sort of stammering before he just… gave up. He walked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to have chapter 10 done soon. These past couple of weeks have been... hard for me. Anyways. Whoot! More fic!


	9. Ups and Lots of Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet as to why Julian returned to Lucio's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than normal, but a bit of backstory as well. (Alternate viewing? Different POV?)

He laid there, hunger chewing at his stomach, but his brain too depressed to even eat. The door slamming had made him start, but otherwise, he didn’t respond. He was too tired, both physically and emotionally, to do much except sleep. He already missed his dogs, hoping that they were alright.

His metal claws dug into the bed, sinking into soft silk and plush cotton. He’d forgotten to take them off. Part of him wanted to dig into his arm again, but he didn’t even have the energy to do that. He closed his eyes, and prayed that the night would continue as it was. He curled away from the window, from the pouring rain outside, the distant cracks of thunder a comforting percussion to the constant drumbeat of the rain.

He was nearly asleep when he heard the door reopen and re-close, gentler this time, and a soft sigh. Someone walked over to his bed, sat down, and the sound of laces being undone hissed through the quiet air. He didn’t turn around yet, not even as he heard the person get up and shuffle around the room, opening drawers and putting on sleep clothes. The person returned, leaning over him and starting to gently undo the metal bits. He figured it would only be polite to let his guest know he was awake, as he softly grunted.

The person hesitated for only a second before continuing to remove the offending parts and setting them on the nightstand beside his bed. Lucio rolled over, wanting to know who was in his bed this late at night. Julian stared down at him, eyepatch off and in some of Lucio’s spare bedclothes. They didn’t move, silently looking at each other, before Julian crawled over Lucio and fell down onto the bed on the other side.

“What’re you doing here…?” Lucio asked softly, pulling the sheets down so Julian could actually crawl in. The tall doctor gave him a grunt of thanks, shimmying down into the sheets. “I was worried about you.”

Lucio snorted, rolling his eyes, but there was a pleasant shock that ran through him. He wanted to thank Julian, to hold him close. “Yea, right…” Was what he said instead, even as he shuffled closer. Julian started to sit up, annoyed. “Well if you don’t want me here-...”

“No, ‘m sorry!” Lucio whimpered, metal hand thrusting out to gently hold Julian’s arm. “Stay?” He gave his best, apologetic look, hoping it didn’t come off too much like a pout. “Please?” His plea was soft, barely there, said on a breath like a prayer.

Julian’s expression fell, along with his body and his anger. He laid back down. His hand drifted up to Lucio’s cheek, thumb rubbing over cheekbones and smearing the makeup even more. Lucio nuzzled into the touches, a soft hum emanating from his throat. There was no intent, just the need for closeness. They laid like that for a while, just holding onto each other.

For some reason, emotion was choking Lucio. He felt ready to cry all over again, a raw nerve he wasn’t sure he could ever heal. He kept it down, kept it hidden, though. He didn’t want Julian to see that  _ again _ . It was too embarrassing. And he was doing well, about to fall asleep, when the taller man took this as his cue to bring his hand to Lucio’s hair, and gently pull on it.

He didn’t pull  _ hard _ , not at all. It was soft, and Lucio realized that Julian was convincing the wax and gel in his hair to relax. To ease the hold it had on his hair. He’d occasionally run a stiff strand through his fingers, easing the hairs apart, and letting it drift, cloud like, down to a more natural position. Lucio hummed, snuggling into his pillow as he felt the migraine pounding behind his temples falter, the stress his hair was under lessening, easing him farther down into sleep. This went on for a while, until one half of his head was done.

Lucio was almost entirely asleep for a third time when Julian’s hand gently curled around the back of his head, and slowly dragged him forward. Lucio didn’t really have the strength to deny, and allowed Julian to do as he pleased. It turned out, as he pleased was dragging Lucio’s head into the center of his chest. Part of Lucio wanted to laugh, because  _ oh my god, Julian was going to smother him in his tits _ , but the larger part honestly felt  _ loved _ in a way he hadn’t in a  _ long _ time… Maybe ever.

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. He swallowed down the emotion building, but didn’t stop himself as he wrapped his arms around Julian’s hips and waist, and buried himself deeper into the man’s chest. He felt himself on the verge of sobbing again, the salt behind his lips, the bitterness in his throat. He pressed himself tight to Julian’s chest, a hiccup making its way out. Julian doesn’t even blink, just wrapping his arms tighter around him, tangling their legs together. He started to press soft kisses to Lucio’s head, mumbling soft words whenever he broke away.

Lucio laid there, trying to get as close as he can to Julian without just burying himself into the man’s flesh. Without ripping open his ribcage and curling inside, around his heart, just hearing it beat. He wasn’t even sure if Julian would _deny_ _him that_ , and that was... more horrifying than the idea of him ripping into Julian’s chest. Part of him was thankful, though. That Julian cared for him so much. The man didn’t _have_ to come back in, didn’t _have_ to take care of him. And yet he did. He was still there, curled tight around Lucio, making him feel safe. From everyone. From himself.

The last bit stung worse than a bee sting. He’d done all of the damage to himself in under 24 hours. And it’d be lasting damage too. He’d have to remember to be more subtle with it, more sneaky. Make sure it was in spots that would normally get damaged, not in spots that actually  _ felt good _ to be damaged. He huffed, crushing his nose against Julian’s sternum, ignoring the thoughts for right now. And he was rewarded with a gentle hum from Julian and him petting his hair.

They laid like that for a while, silence overtaking them yet again. There was soft clicking in the hall, then in his bedroom, and then two sleek shapes slid into the bed with them as well, pressing tightly against his back. Julian reached over him to pet whatever joined them, and for once, Lucio didn’t care. He turned his head so he could press his cheek against Julian’s chest, holding the taller man close like a teddy bear. He snuffled for a few moments, getting comfortable, before falling asleep.

Julian watched Lucio fall asleep, one arm under the man’s head, cradling it, his hand petting the soft, blond hair. The other hand was currently petting Melchior’s head, the hunting dog looking rather pitiful. They hadn’t been hurt, thankfully, and he’d managed to sneak them in with Portia and Nazali’s help. According to Portia, they’d been looking for a way back in all morning, Pepi eventually trying to help them before they gave up and returned to her cottage, where Faust had found them. Faust had then gotten what info she could, returned to Asra, and that had led to Portia crying. However, it seemed that Asra hadn’t shared  _ all _ of the information, as he’d made it sound like the dogs had gone  _ after _ Pepi, instead of the cat running across them and helping.

It wasn’t until just a few moments ago that he’d ran into Malak that his own familiar, who’d seen the entire thing go down, filled in the gaps. And Julian had felt bad. It also seemed that Faust hadn’t entirely agreed with her owner’s actions, helping the dogs (and cat) sneak into the Palace. Julian had run across Portia and Nazali, the two talking in depth about what they’d seen with Lucio.

“He’s hurting himself,” Nazali had said, matter of fact. “Maybe not entirely physically, but certainly mentally.” They waved a hand when Julian and Portia had tried to speak up, eyes sharp. “I’m not looking for a fight, you two.” Their eyes went soft, and they sighed heavily. They’d rubbed the bridge of their nose, cocking their hip, worry and annoyance staining their features and voice. “Look, I’ve got a friend elsewhere that’s studying the mind. I’m going to go visit them, and I’m going to see if I can’t drag them back here to see if there’s something wrong with Lucio.  _ Mentally _ .” They lowered their hand, pointing to each of the siblings as they spoke. “I want you two to keep an eye on him while I’m gone. I’m worried about the man.”

“No, I am too,” Portia had agreed quickly, raising a hand in a placating gesture. “There’s  _ something _ wrong with him, I just…” She had huffed, crossing her arms and looking at the floor, disappointed in herself. “I can’t pin  _ what _ , and it’s making me feel useless…”

Behind her, Mercedes and Melchior, hidden in the shadows of an arch behind a painting, had whined, the elder snuffling for Nazali’s hand. The doctor had allowed it, scratching Melchior’s head, Portia following their lead with Mercedes. Faust dropped from her perch on the painting, draping over Julian’s shoulders. “ _ Squeeze...  _ “ She hadn’t sounded happy, looking downtrodden. “ _ Worried squeeze… _ ”

Julian had gently rubbed the top of her head, the snake leaning into the touches. “I know… we’re all worried too.” Pepi had wound around all of their legs, looking like she was pacing and thinking. He had looked to his sister and friend, worry etched on his face. “If what you’re saying is true… I’m going to go stay with him.”

Portia’s head had snapped up to him, eyes wide. “ _ What?! _ ” She started to stammer as she spoke. “W-will he even  _ allow _ you to? After what you di-...” She stopped, taking in a deep breath. “After what happened between you two?” Her eyes were deep with worry and other emotions Julian couldn’t pinpoint.

Nazali had only shown their anxiety at her words. “What happened between you two?” They’d parroted, eyes whipping around to Julian. “What did you  _ do? _ ”

He had raised his hands, placating. “I found him at the Raven, and overreacted. I’d…” He’d swallowed, looking down and away and embarrassed with the memory. “I’d yelled at him and was generally not nice…”

Nazali had scoffed, throwing their arms up and looking frustrated. Portia had pouted, and looked away. “God _ damnit _ , Devorak!” Nazali had sighed heavily, turning around to point accusingly at both of them. “Both of you!” They cross their arms, glowering at them. Both Devoraks had enough courtesy to look ashamed, looking away, shuffling and scuffing or tapping feet, hands rubbing either an arm or back of the neck. After a few seconds of the glaring, Nazali relaxed. “Look, it doesn’t  _ matter _ now.” Their eyes went soft. “We just need to support him right now.”

Both siblings had nodded, attention back to them. “So… what do we do?” Portia had asked, worry deeply etched on her face.

Nazali had pointed to the dogs. “Get these two fed, and then have Julian crawl into Lucio’s bed.” At the eyebrow quirk from both siblings, Nazali rolled their eyes. “Not like  _ that _ . Go cuddle the man.”

And that lead Julian to where he was now. The dogs against Lucio’s back huffed and whined, Mercedes even going as far as to lay on his hips and legs. He wanted to huff at them, to shoo them away a little, but he didn’t. He instead adjusted them all, so Lucio was on his back, the dogs laying over and across his legs, Julian pressed tightly against his side, his own leg kicked over the man’s waist. Lucio hummed in his sleep, but otherwise, didn’t move, still breathing evenly.

Julian laid like that, listening to the dogs fall asleep. He remained still, distantly worried. The rain continued to pound against the windows, but the thunder had stopped. His hand went to pick on the other side of Lucio’s hair, the half that still had the wax and gel, feeling it slowly unwind. And he kept going, Lucio only adjusting occasionally to get closer. It was… comforting.  _ Domestic _ . Julian wasn’t sure he even wanted to let it go. His breath was getting slower as time went on, until eventually, his eyes closed, his hand fell, and he fell asleep, nose buried in the blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhh I hope to have Chapter 11 done soon. Chapter 10's done, thank God. Writing Muse comes and goes worse than a storm system.


	10. Small Luxuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 Chapters. Holy HELL y'all. Thank you for the support! If you wanna send fan art or ANYTHING to me at all, my tumblr, twitter, IG, and TikTok are all the same: AdrianExists.

He woke up slowly, nose still buried into Lucio’s hair, dogs still pressed tightly against the blond’s back. He nuzzled deeper into the hair, sighing deeply as he could smell some of the literal  _ fire _ beneath coming back up, the scent of blood and iron slowly washing away. 

It was… calming, in all the best ways. He wrapped himself around Lucio more, a hand coming up to start to pet his hair. It wasn’t as soft as it was fresh out of the shower, but it wasn’t too terrible either. He’d have to force Lucio into bed all day today, and he knew that. He was already preparing for the fight. For right now, though, he just held the man close.

Slowly, Lucio woke up. Even slower than just the day before last (as that  _ only _ 48 hours ago? Jesus…), and he barely moved. Only his shift in breath alerted him that, yes, Lucio was awake. He didn’t say a word, just held him and petted his hair. They remained silent before Lucio decided to break it.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

It was Julian’s turn to take in a deep breath, and he hummed on the exhale. Was he still mad? “No, I’m not mad anymore.” He waited on baited breath for Lucio’s reply.

“... you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Lucio nodded into his chest. “Okay… I…” He swallowed heavily, fully rolling over to hug onto Julian. “I believe you…” He didn’t sound entirely sure, but he also sounded entirely sure. As if, logically, he knew the chances were low, but  _ emotionally _ , he knew. And it honestly broke Julian’s heart just a  _ little _ bit more. He didn’t respond verbally, instead, wrapping himself around Lucio more and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

They remained like that for a while, until one of the dogs groaned. Lucio shot up into a sit, eyes wide. “What?” He turned to look at what had been behind him, in shock. Upon spotting his dogs, his shock turned to joy, and he grinned. “Mercedes! Melchior! You’re alright!” He made grabby hands towards his dogs, small chuckles coming out of his throat. He was  _ beyond _ overjoyed, seemingly unable to contain himself. The dogs, in the same vein, nearly barked loudly in their own joy, giving them small  _ woofs _ instead. Lucio and Julian shushed them at the same time, both chuckling or giggling at the dogs.

“C’mon, pipe down!” Lucio stage-whispered to them, gently holding their snouts shut, looking around the room as if a guard would burst in from the painting at any moment. “We don’t want you taken away by the big, mean,  _ nasty _ guards, now do we?” The dogs had looked at him and then at each other and then back at him before nodding. He giggled again,giving them one last pet to the head. “Good dogs. Now,  _ off _ ! Me and Julian need to talk.”

Julian wanted to be surprised, but he’d also understood why he called them away. They gave him an unsure, if not downright  _ withering _ look. They didn’t trust him. He waved a placating hand at them. “I promise, no more hurt.” He raised his open palms to them. “Look, see? No harm.”

They still didn’t believe him, coming up, and snuffling at him. He chuckled at them, petting their noses as they came up. They snorfed and backed off, jumping off the bed and tapping into the hall. As if they  _ weren’t _ technically illegal in the palace now. He watched them go with a softness in his eyes. A softness that Julian had rarely seen. It was… nice. But something still hurt.

“Lucio?”

“Mmm?”

“You’ve still gotta eat…”

The blond’s smile dropped, and he looked annoyed. “I’m  _ fine _ , Jules…” Julian didn’t believe him. He grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at him. “ _ Damnit _ , Montag, I’m not playing around! You’re going to get  _ sick _ if you keep going like this.” He grabbed the shorter man’s shoulder, shaking him. “Don’t you understand that? Do you  _ want _ to get sick? Do you want to  _ die? _ ”

“Well, what if I do!” Lucio shouted, throwing Julian’s hands away. “So what?” He narrowed his eyes, the silver of them becoming a sharp steel. “What’re you going to do about it?” It was mocking, sneering, and Julian had finally had about enough.

He punched him. Straight across the face.

Lucio’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide, mouth agape as he fell backwards. Julian felt horror at himself at what he’d done, even  _ before _ the punch was finished being thrown. What the hell…?

“Oh my God, Lucio, I’m… I’m not sure what that was, I’m…” He stuttered and stammered, already stooping over the man to check for damage. He was expecting a pissed off, “Get out,” but there was nothing instead. That somehow made it all  _ so much worse _ . His deathly silence, until he finally moved, gently checking the inside of his mouth, and pulling back to reveal blood.

“You punched me…” He said softly, in awe. In shock.

Julian trembled, feeling about like he was about to cry. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I just got so frustrated and annoyed and-”

“No, no, I deserved it…” He gently touched his cheek where the hit landed, hissing when he pressed too hard on the slowly forming bruise. Julian was honestly taken aback, a bit of horror creeping up. Before he knew it, he was gently bringing Lucio closer, starting to cry, holding the blond as close as possible. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over myself…”

“It’s  _ fine _ Jules, I’m used to shit kinda shit…” Both men stiffened instantly after saying that, for  _ very _ different reasons. Julian still held onto Lucio’s arms as he pulled back, glaring at him. “You’re what.” His tone was flatter than the plains.

Lucio swallowed heavily, and looked away, tapping his fingers together in panic. “I’m… used to being hit…? Punched? Being told to fuck off…?” He shrugged, face neutral. “It’s no big deal, honestly.” Julian shook him gently, Lucio’s eyes spinning for a second before they focused on Julian. “Lucio, is  _ this _ why you were such an asshole? You had no idea that people don’t normally  _ do _ that?”

The blond blinked at him, an unbelieving smile creeping across his face. “Wha-wha’d’ya mean, people don’t  _ normally _ do that? Mama used to leave me out in the woods all the time to toughen me up. Papa used to hit me across the face. My higher ups, before I  _ became _ the higher ups, would beat me down to my knees all the time.” He squinted at Julian, the smile fading faster than sunlight. “And you mean to tell me that  _ wasn’t _ normal?” He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

Julian could  _ feel _ his expression of pure, unabashed, unadulterated  _ horror _ on his face. “No!” He nearly yelled, trembling. His hand flew up to gesture wildly around their heads. “Most people aren’t  _ abused _ for most of their life!”

Lucio glared at him, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t  _ abused _ , Julian, I had tough love. Abuse is…” He looked away, obviously trying to find the right meaning. It took him a few seconds before he looked back to Julian, seemingly given up on finding the right meaning. “What the hell is abuse?”

Julian had to force himself to not cry on the spot. That… explained a lot, actually. If Lucio had been raised with abuse being the “norm”, of course he wouldn’t realize what it was. In his mind, people had probably just been… “easy” on him all these years. Julian, having not realized he was up on his knees until then, lowered himself back into a sit, and urged Lucio to sit on his lap. The blond did as he was silently asked, letting Julian put his arms under his shoulders and elbows. Once they were comfortable, he looked up at Julian with big, expecting eyes. Julian took in a deep breath before explaining. Julian was not expecting Lucio to listen so…  _ intently _ . And he seemed to soak up every word. It was as… nice as it was worrisome. It seemed he  _ hadn’t _ been raised with this information, and for a split second, Julian wondered  _ why _ , until it clicked. Morga  _ herself _ undoubtedly hadn’t, why would her son be any different. She probably raised him as close to “normal” as she could, and the most loving. The idea of that was…  _ horrifying _ to say the very least. That meant that she’d been abused as well. It made him wonder how far back the generational abuse went. He had to swallow down the bile in his throat multiple times during the entire speech.

Once he was done, he looked at Lucio. The man was… silent, looking at him wide eyed. It was a few minutes before he spoke, weak and wobbling. “So you mean… all of that happened… to  _ me? _ ” He sat up, scooted off Julian’s lap, and held his head in his hands. “And I  _ did _ some of that…” He hiccuped, starting to softly sob. Julian reached out, his hand smoothing against Lucio’s shoulder gently. At the touch, the man went stiff. They remained like that for a while, until Lucio slowly turned around.

He was crying, tears dripping down his face. “Am I…” He paused to hiccup, lower lip wobbling. “Am I a bad person?” The same question as the other night, phrased slightly differently, but more potent. More dangerous. But this time, Julian  _ did _ have an answer.

“You used to be, but you’re working on not becoming that anymore,” he assured, brushing a stray blond lock away. “You used to be the most intolerable  _ prick _ alive.” He cupped Lucio’s chin, making him look at him. “But now? You’re turning into an amazing man.”

“But I’m not right now?”

Julian internally cursed at himself. Of  _ course _ Lucio would pick up on that. Instead of being annoyed and frustrated, he went silent for a beat. After that moment, he shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “You’re better than you were. I would say you’re…” He made a circle gesture with his hands. “You’re  _ decent _ now.” He shrugged, and looked at the blond, startled at the expression he saw there.

Lucio was crying, clearly torn between emotions. Was he overjoyed because he was ok now? Or was he devastated because he wasn’t a good man yet? Or would he  _ ever _ be a good man? He sat back, holding his head in his hands, feeling that panic coming on again.

He didn’t even realize what was happening until he heard Julian start to shush him. Soothe him. Soft nothings of, “you’re safe, you’re here, you’re with me,” and other such words. The slow circles on his back, the body coming to curl around his, should’ve made him scream in anger. But it didn’t. Not any more. Instead, he started to sob, trying to get as close to Julian as he could. “Jules…” His voice was high and reedy and cracked mid-way through.

“I’m right here, Lucio,” Julian murmured, feeling his voice threaten to crack, holding him there. “I’m here…” He gently stroked Lucio’s hair with a hand, petting the man. His sobs didn’t lower in intensity, wracking his body like he was a leaf in a storm. Julian sat there, keeping him stable, solid,  _ there _ . It felt… nice.

They sat like that for a while, Lucio’s sobs slowly lessening, his breathing slowly evening out, until he almost sounded like he’d fallen back asleep. The sunlight streamed through the windows, hitting Lucio’s back. Julian still didn’t move, not realizing he’d been humming an old Nevivon lullaby until Lucio mumbled, “You’ve gotta v’ry nice voice…” He nuzzled into Julian’s shoulder, sighing softly.

Julian went still, surprised by both his own humming and the fact that Lucio said he had a nice voice. He blushed, and chuckled softly. “No, I’ve a mediocre voice,” he refused gently, petting Lucio’s hair and dragging his nails down his scalp. Lucio moaned and leaned into the touches, begging for more, of which, Julian was  _ more _ than happy to provide. He thought of how funny it was that Lucio acted vaguely like a cat. Instead, he ignored that thought in favor of listening to Lucio’s noises. After a few moments, Lucio finally regained the ability to speak. He gasped before saying, “liar… you’ve got a beautiful voice.”

Julian scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “No, I don’t…” He was surprised when his hand was swatted away, and Lucio sat up to look him in the eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, Lucio searchingly and Julian confusedly. The blond eventually raised his hands and gently took Julian’s. “Jules, don’t take my compliments lightly,” he warned, stern and serious. He raised a hand and cupped his cheek, soft and gentle. Julian was merely a fool, nuzzling into the hand like a newborn fawn as Lucio continued. “You’ve got a  _ lovely _ singing voice. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, alright?”

They were silent for a second until Julian sighed and nodded. “Ok…” He kissed the center of his palm softly, surprised at how soft the skin was there. He paused, feeling panic because  _ did he just take it too far? _ But when he looked at Lucio, and when all he saw was the widening of eyes, he wondered… He did it again, testing the waters. Lucio didn’t move, his only reaction being a quick inhale of breath. He traced his lips up Lucio’s hand, to his wrist, another soft kiss placed there.  _ That _ got him a reaction.

Lucio nearly ripped his arm away, squeaking. Julian cocked an eyebrow at him, worried and confused and a little annoyed. “Lucio? What was that about?”

The blond bit his lip, uncomfortable. “I uh… I’m…” He swallowed heavily, eyes flicking away, staring intently at the headboard. Julian flipped their roles, pressing a soft hand up against Lucio’s cheek, slowly moving the other’s gaze to him. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna get mad again,” he cooed, leaning forward. At Lucio’s pause and refusal to look at him, he barely gripped the side of his jaw, running his thumb over Lucio’s cheekbones. “Ok?”

Lucio took in a deep breath before nodding, eyes looking down now. “Okay…” He took another moment before letting out a deep breath. “I was… suicidal. I kept throwing myself into dangerous situations in an attempt to end my own life, while also looking for ways to extend it. I made more than my share of beyond dangerous deals, and I…” He curled in on himself, looking to the side and swallowing. “I never thought about the consequences of my actions until now. I just thought…”

“You just thought it’d all go away,” Julian finished, staring at him with a shock of horror. When Lucio nodded, it got worse, broiling in his belly. “You never thought…”

“I never thought it’d effect…  _ everyone _ ,” he mumbled, vaguely gesturing to the balcony doors.

“And yet, it did…” They both finished it, Lucio nodding sadly at him. “Yea… it did.” He gave a sardonic smile, sad and distant. After a beat, he sighed, hiding his face. “Why did I think I could do this?  _ Change? _ I’m not different than the monster they say I am.”

Julian frowned, holding Lucio’s head in his hands, forcing it to remain still. “Hey, hey hey hey,” he cooed, trying to get Lucio’s attention. “You  _ have _ changed. For the better, even! You’ve been doing things past you wouldn’t.” Lucio whipped his gaze back to Julian, glaring and snapping out, “yea, right, like what?”

Julian was… surprisingly unphased by this. He was growing to expect it, for better or worse. “You’ve been apologizing more lately, you’ve honestly started taking others feelings into account, you no longer are just doing things for yourself.” He gestured to the desk where Lucio had pulled out the tax reforms. “You’ve been working on an entire tax reform to  _ tax the rich _ , instead of just leaving the system to get worse and worse, you’ve been making sure your staff are paid well, given them the allotted and right amount of time off and health care and just…” He sighed, looking at Lucio, expression torn between elated and sad. “You’ve been doing such great things, and you’re becoming such a great person…!” He rubbed his cheekbones, watching as Lucio held his hand in place and leaned into the touch. “I’m just so sorry you can’t see that for yourself…” His voice broke, and he felt anguish win over the joy.

Lucio gave a weak chuckle. “I am… rather a sad sack right now, aren’t I?” It was self-deprecating, and worrisome. Much of his newer responses were worrisome. Or maybe they were old responses Julian was just now noticing. “Lucio…” Julian murmured, leaning forward. Lucio followed, both men closing their eyes in anticipation before the bedroom door flew open.

They both leapt back as if they’d been shocked, staring at the door. Portia leaned against it, breathing heavily, looking like she’d just run up here from the South Side. Which, given that she wasn’t in her Palace uniform, was probably right. Both men turned, mouths opened and ready to question before she raised a finger, asking for a moment. They nodded and waited, giving her that moment to catch her breath.

She sagged against the door, pulling in ragged breaths before managing to get it under control. Once she had, she stood up straight, looking calm. Another beat before it fell into panic and anxiety as she all but shouted, “The Plague’s come back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11's almost done, and soon, I shall begin work on Chapter 12. I know I've been saying we're about to hit our first big point for a while (since Chapter 7 I believe), but we really are this time. Get hyped.


	11. Plague Doctors Are All the Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, chapter 11! A bit of fluff (and showing just how much these idiots are falling for each other) before we really get goin' again.

They stormed down the hall, Julian taking the lead, Portia right beside him, and Lucio bringing up the back. The two men were dressed, though not in their full attire. Julian had forgone his outer coat, his jacket not buttoned all the way and the sleeves rolled up, eyepatch gone. Lucio had forgotten his sash and other such minor things like his cape. Their hair was still messed up, and Lucio’s hung around his face. Still, they walked, Lucio occasionally struggling to keep pace. His leg was still hurting him.

Julian and Portia spoke rapidly, sometimes breaking into their native Nevivon tongue, not bothering to fill in Lucio. From what he could gather whenever they dropped into common, though, was that there had been someone on the docks that had suddenly gotten infected with the Plague. Suspicions were already starting to arise against Lucio, claiming (no matter how correctly) that he’d brought the Plague back. And, in order to keep it from coming back as it once had, they needed to kill him. All within a timespan of barely 12 hours.

“How words fly,” Julian sighed, hands behind his back as he walked, fidgeting with his fingers. He scowled at the floor tiles, worried. Lucio didn’t have an  _ active _ hand in this. It hadn’t been expected that the Plague would come back, though it should’ve been an option they considered. He was more frustrated that they  _ hadn’t _ , and that  _ that _ was what was leading to where they were now. His eyes flicked over to Lucio, who watched him with wide, worried eyes. He wanted to snarl and snap at the man to fuck off, but he knew more than anyone that’d just make their situation worse.

So, they kept going, until they met back up with Nadia and Asra. Nadia was currently barely playing the organ, obviously just trying to keep herself distracted, while Asra paced up and down the room, looking almost like a caged animal. When the doors closed behind them, both people turned to look at them, a sneer falling over their faces at the sight of Lucio.

The blond made himself look as small as possible, curling in on himself a bit and hunching over. He rubbed his human wrist, tugging at the skin a bit harder than normally to feel some pain, no matter how minor. He averted his eyes, staring intently at the pattern on the marble floor. Julian pushed forward, stopping in front of Asra. “What’s going on, do you have any more details?”

Asra took a step back and shook his head, obviously surprised at Julian’s question, and more than likely drawn out of his impressive glare at Lucio. Nadia stood and joined them, Portia nearly jogging to join the group. All four of them started discussing all they knew, and Lucio just stood off to the side, looking like he didn’t belong.

And he  _ didn’t _ belong there, he realized. The Plague was back in no small part due to  _ him _ . Being alive again. He scuffed his boot on the carpet, feeling hunger nip at his stomach. Well, more like gnaw, now. How long had it been since he’d eaten? A full day, nearly two? Good, he’d deserved it. He held himself in his arms, only vaguely listening. He felt awful. No makeup meant he couldn’t hide, his arm and leg hurt beyond reasonable measure, his chest ached, and all he wanted to do was curl up and cry.

He didn’t even register Julian calling his name until it was shouted, and he snapped out of it. His head jolted up (a wave of dizziness coming over him), and he stared at them, startled. “Huh? Oh, yea, I’m here.”

Julian frowned, turning to him a bit more. “Did you hear any of what we said?” He sounded like he was on the verge of being offended. Lucio paled before reciting off what he heard. “The Plague’s back, it’s started in the Southern Side, I’ve caused it, and one of the only ways we know to break it is kill me.” When Julian nodded slowly, he gave him a soft, yet endlessly weak, smile. “I promise I’m paying attention, I’m just tired.”

“You slept nearly twelve hours last night,” Nadia said, annoyed. Lucio just looked away, focusing on the back of a couch now. He heard hers and Asra’s deep sighs before they turned back to their conversation. He tuned back out, huddling in on himself as much as he could without collapsing to the floor. Stupid, useless, all he deserved was to hang. He caused the Plague time and time over. How many towns, cities,  _ countries _ had been destroyed by him? He couldn’t bare to think of it, not right now, not  _ ever _ , not unless he-

“Lucio!”

He jolted back, physically as well this time. He stared at the four in front of him, breathing heavily, before pulling himself up. “Yes?” Julian sighed and walked over to him, pressing his bare forearm against Lucio’s forehead (wow, he felt nice. Cool and comforting. He liked this). He hummed before pulling away, gently holding his jaw and turning his head this way and that, checking for…  _ something _ . Lucio wasn’t sure what. After a seemingly useless examination, Julian pulled away entirely, frowning. “You’re running a higher temperature than normal. Not high enough to be a fever, but high enough that I’m worried about you.”

Lucio shrugged, looking away again. “Look, I’m fine. I just need some more rest.” It wasn’t exactly a  _ lie _ , but it wasn’t the truth either. He shifted awkwardly, not sure how he felt with all the gazes in the room on him. How he could deal with and even  _ enjoyed them _ before had left him. Right now, he just wanted to curl into a ball in a nice, dark, hidden space, and pass out for the rest of eternity. He was startled out of his thoughts by another hand on his shoulder. Julian frowned, that same hand on his shoulder again. “Lucio? Are you alright?” Lucio shrugged, partially shrugging Julian’s hand off of him. “I’m fine. How I feel doesn’t really matter.”

He didn’t see Nadia’s frown turn worried, or Asra’s glare shift to a look of pure shock, nor Portia’s lip starting to wobble. Hell, he  _ barely _ noticed Julian’s eyes grow sad, the only reason he did was because Julian moved his head back to center. Julian watched him, eyes flickering back and forth across his face. “Lucio…”

He felt shame run hot over his face. He shouldn’t have made them worry. He looked down and away, holding tightly onto his arm. “Sorry…” He hoped that they would be able to understand it was an  _ actual _ apology. Not whatever he… usually did. He fiddled with his hands, looking as apologetic as he could. He was honestly surprised when Julian pressed a gentle thumb to his jaw, looking him over. “Do you want to go eat, Lucio?”

He opened his mouth to say “no”, but his stomach hit him with a pang of hunger, the pain of it leaving him nearly doubled over. Julian braced an arm against his chest, frowning. “That’s a yes,” he said firmly, leaving him no choice and helping Lucio stand upright. He looked over his shoulder, taking in everyone’s expressions. Portia’s look of worried shock wasn’t a surprise. He supposed she wasn’t aware of his lack of eating. Asra looked a bit… embarrassed? As if he didn’t know and felt like he should’ve. Or maybe he  _ did _ know, and felt like he should’ve cared, instead of letting Lucio waste away. Or maybe it was something else, who knew. It was Nadia’s stricken expression that wrecked him the most. She looked somewhere between mortified and not surprised. As if she  _ knew _ this could happen, but did nothing to stop it. That was… highly possible, if he was honest with himself. Still, that didn’t matter. Not right then.

He looked at each of his friends (though they may not be that for long, excluding Pasha), and sighed. “We’ll have to deal with this information soon. For right now, Lucio needs food.”

“No I don’t,” the blond tried weakly, only to be shushed by Julian and a finger over his lips. Julian also silenced Asra with a glare, one that made the magician flinch back where he stood.

He tried to pull away again, but when Julian held fast, he didn’t try to fight it, instead accepting it and looking defeated. He  _ knew _ he needed the help, he just didn’t want to seek it. Julian turned them both around and made their way out the library, the taller man shooing the shorter man out in front of him. “Come along now, Lucio, we need to get you all fixed up.”

“I’ll come too!” Portia jogged over the couple of paces to them, closing the door and following them out into the hall. All three of them heard Asra and Nadia whispering the second they left, starting to actually talk the second the door shut. All three of them stood there for a moment, processing what had gone on. After that moment, Lucio pressed his hands to his face, and forced down a sob. “ _ God _ **_damn_ ** _ it… _ ” He was disappointed in himself for crying more today. Namely in front of Portia. Julian’d seen him weep enough that it didn’t even register for him. And that it was the middle of the hall. Anyone could see him. He didn’t like crying in open spaces. It made him feel weak.

He started when Portia gently pressed her hand to his shoulder, bending over to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked softly, her fingers rubbed small circles where she touched him, comforting and warm. He unconsciously leaned into the touches, seeking comfort. He felt Julian come up the other side, hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades, dragging his fingers lightly up and down a little. He subtly arched into the touches, taking in a shuddering gasp. After a moment, he nodded and stood. “I’ll be fine,” he lied, swallowing. “I’ll be fine.” He said it more for himself than either of them, something they realized and didn’t acknowledge. If this is what kept him ok, that’s what kept him ok.

Julian looked around, pulling away from Lucio, and searching for anyone nearby. When he saw no one, he heaved out a sigh of relief. He let himself basically fall back against a wall, leaning all his weight onto it. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and groaned, thinking. “ _ God _ , what a mess this all is…”

Portia sighed as well, nodding, and leaned into Lucio’s chest. “It’s beyond a huge mess, is what it is,” she agreed, voice tinged with sadness. She shook her head and waved her hand, pushing off Lucio’s chest, remembering what they actually  _ needed _ to do. “We can worry about the Plague a bit later, right now, both of you need food.” She pointed and glared at Lucio, stern and motherly. “Especially you.”

The blond chuckled and took a step back, nervous yet playful. “Who, me? The man who hasn’t eaten in…” He paused, smile failing as he thought. He counted in his head, processing, before, “56 hours?”

“ _ Jesus _ , Lucio!” She nearly shouted, shaking her head again, rubbing at her temples, looking disappointed. She turned her glare to Julian, who lowered his hands from his eyes and stared at her, a little sheepishly. “And you  _ let him _ do this?”

He raised his hands in surrender, sighing heavily and looking disappointed in himself. “I know, I know…” He pushed off the wall and rejoined them in the middle, wrapping a loose arm around Lucio’s waist, subtly tucking the other man into his side. Lucio leaned into it just as subtly, and forced the urge to rest his head on Julian’s shoulders down. “We need to get some food into him first,  _ I know _ .” He looked up and down the halls again, not entirely sure where to go in the Palace. “Where’s food?” He asked after a moment, sounding embarrassed. Portia pointed down a hall, starting to walk the correct direction. “This way, c’mon.”

She lead them through hallways, down corridors that Lucio would swear are closer to alley ways, and through too many paintings to count. He supposed some new ways were added after he died, which kind of annoyed him. He didn’t  _ like _ not knowing everything that went on in at least his Palace. Still, he followed, and they finally made it to a dining room.  _ The _ dining room, he should say. Portia moved to sit at the large table, but Lucio bypassed it entirely, ducking into the hallway that lead to the kitchen. “Lucio?” Portia called after him. He just waved them through.

The siblings looked at each other, before Julian just shrugged and followed after Lucio. Portia paused for a beat before sighing, shaking her head, and following as well.

If he remembered right, there was an alcove right…  _ here! _ Lucio grinned as he pulled the curtains aside. A small table and three chairs sat there, a bit dusty and under used, but there none the less. He bowed and gestured to them. “My good lady and sir,” he said, dramatically. Portia giggled, Julian scoffing and rolling his eyes playfully, but both returning the bow with equally dramatic return gestures and a, “Why thank you my good sir!” They all paused for a moment, looking at each other, before bursting out laughing. They all sat, with Julian in the back, and Lucio and Portia across from each other.

“So, what  _ is _ this little nook?” Portia asked, entwining her fingers on the table and looking at Lucio. “I was always told it was like, storage or something.” Lucio shrugged, shaking his head. “Nnnooo, it was originally storage, but I often didn’t want to use the grand dining room.” He put up a hand in a “stop” motion. “Surprising, I know.”

“For  _ you... _ ! Why,  _ Lucio _ ,” Portia grinned, eyes gleaming with sarcastic joy, “I didn’t  _ know _ you had sensible taste!” He rolled his eyes at her, waving her off (and flipping her off too, ignoring Julian’s bitchy, “oi!” from beside him). “I  _ know _ , it’s an astounding concept.” They paused before snickering, Portia doubling over and covering her mouth. Lucio’s eyes closed, the crow’s feet around them crinkling.

And if Julian was staring at them in awe and adoration, well, no one else would know. He leaned on his fist, sighing softly at the sight of them. He kept staring, counting the freckles and minor wrinkles on his face. The two or three nicks he had on his face, most around his jaw, clearly from before he got used to the clawed gauntlet. The freckles decorated his face, mostly the bridge of his nose and his surprisingly high cheekbones. There was a subtle blushing there, and Julian was entranced. He used to hate the man, but now? Now he was growing to adore him, maybe even love him. No, no.   
He was already in love with him.

God, he was weak.

He watched them (mostly Lucio) until another servant came over, sputtering. “C-Count Lucio!” The young man squeaked, bowing. “Portia, Dr. Devorak.” He sounded more calm with the other two, and Lucio’s smile weakened a little. He waved his hand at the young man, as if dusting away cobwebs. “Just Lucio will do, I’m no longer Count,” he reminded gently. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he said, “Give all the Counts to Nadia.”

The servant nodded, a small, terrified smile crossing his face. As if he was  _ trying _ to calm down for Portia’s sake. After a second, he suddenly stammered and yanked out a notepad and pen, nearly dropping them. “Wh-what can I get for you today?”

Lucio hummed, rested his chin on his hand, and looked at Portia. “What do you think?”

She leaned back, hand on her chin, eyes squinting at the ceiling, thinking. Her chair squeaked angrily under her at the weight change, but didn’t collapse. Julian was pretty sure Lucio would’ve thrown the chair against a wall to watch it splinter if it dared did that, even now. Actually, now that he  _ really _ thought on it, Lucio  _ had _ made some great strides already. He was very protective of Julian and Portia, and he remembered when he’d told Julian that Portia was “probably one of a few people in the Palace that don’t act afraid of me… and are nice to me to be nice, not because I’m former Count or anything.” Portia tapped her chin, still thinking, before getting an idea. “Oh! I know!” She held out her hand for the servant’s notepad, which he handed over. She quickly wrote something down and handed it back, winking at him. “Thank you, Allego.”

The young man bowed before scampering off, Lucio watching him go with a raised eyebrow. “Allego?” He parroted, turning to Portia once the servant was gone. She nodded, grinning. “Yup! One of our newer staff! Just joined here about, oh,” her smile fell and she thought again, now leaning on the table, “three months ago? Or so?” She sat back, looking pleased. Lucio nodded, leaning back as well, getting comfortable. He wiggled a little into his seat. “Oh. Well, explains why he still calls me Count.”

Julian and Portia blinked at him before looking at each other before looking back at Lucio. “Most people… still call you Count,” Portia said cautiously, as if expecting a fit. Lucio’s expression fell, and he looked disappointed. “Wait, really? Even though I gave up the title?” She nodded, looking a little relieved that him being more disappointed was his only reaction. “Yea! I mean, it was still  _ technically _ yours when you returned. So I think people just… still refer to you as Count out of respect.”

Lucio’s expression fell more, now looking upset. Distraught and worried.. “You mean out of  _ fear _ , right?” He looked at the floor from the side of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, sadness clear and obvious in his voice. “No one here has any ounce of respect for me…” It wasn’t said out of anger or spite, but with sadness and disappointment. It was a simple fact. One that neither Devorak sibling could deny. They gave him a sorrowful look, Portia making a small noise of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Lucio…”

He shrugged, his signature smile  _ almost _ back in place. He leaned back in his chair and waved a hand, as if chasing the bad energy away. “Meh, it’s the past,” he said simply. “Can’t change the past.” He looked down the hall, now silent, it’s narrow structure almost claustrophobic.

Julian shrugged and leaned back as well. “I mean, that is true. The past is set in stone, and  _ long _ behind us.”

Lucio and Portia turned to stare at him with mouths agape. “What… the  _ fuck _ was that, Ilya?” Portia said, astounded. “I’ve  _ never _ heard you talk like that.” Julian flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck, giggling. “ _ What? _ I  _ can’t _ be a little philosophical sometimes?”

“Not when it’s  _ you _ ,” Lucio said, voice high and surprised. “You’re just… a goofy doctor!” He let himself go mostly limp back in his chair, a little in shock. Julian, saying something that  _ wasn’t _ self-deprecating and  _ wasn’t _ an almost, “pity me” sort of deal. God, what a day. His stomach sent a pang of hunger through his system again, leaving him doubled over the table, gagging a little. Julian suddenly stood up, the chair screeching against the flooring as it was forced back, his hands on Lucio’s shoulders and a quick, “are you alright?” coming from his lips.

Lucio nodded, leaning (almost laying) on the table. “‘M just hungry, tha’s all…” He felt a migraine pulse behind his temples, and he rubbed them with his fingers. Julian wrapped him up in his arms, dragging the chair closer with his foot and sitting down in it again. He leaned into Julian’s arms, humming softly. He was surprisingly warm, and comfortable. It reminded him of the two times they’d shared a bed. God, that first time felt so  _ long _ ago. He was so caught up in memories, he didn’t even realize that he was now completely leaning on Julian. He sighed, pressing his cheek against Julian’s chest. He adored how his jacket felt, and the strong body under it was just a plus. He nuzzled against him, eyes still closed.

Julian returned the soft sight, pressing his cheek to the top of Lucio’s head. He happily held him, and they both just sat there. Portia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, smiling at the two of them, pausing only to huff a strand of hair out of her face. All three were more than happy to remain silent and content like that, the sounds of the kitchen floating up and the occasional servant running past. Most happily ignored Lucio, though a few slowed down to gawk for a few seconds before moving on.

After a little while, Portia sighed, and leaned forward, back onto the table. “Yanno, I really wouldn’t mind life like this,” she admitted softly, fucking with something on the table. Probably the old, almost tacky lacquer on the table. Lucio barely opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows slightly at her. “Mm? You wouldn’t? Why’s that?” She shrugged and gestured to the table as a whole. “I mean, look at us.We’re all happy. We’re all safe, well, mostly.” She sighed, laying down on the table after an almost dramatic flop. “I mean… this is the dream life I’ve wanted forever.”

Julian could tell something was eating at her, just from her tone. It wasn’t  _ hard _ to guess, and he was her brother after all. He knew her tones and almost every little tell about her. He opened his eyes and frowned at her. “What’s wrong?” He still held Lucio close, and felt the smaller man stiffen a little. Portia shrugged again, sighing heavily before answering. “Just… the reappearance of the Plague, is all…” She sat up so she could gesture to the fullest extent. “It’s worrisome to me, let alone how people are already reacting. We managed to find what we believe to be patient zero, but the problem is that people… already kinda guessed Lucio’s the cause of it. And the fact that it’s  _ back at  _ **_all_ ** is… I mean, I was  _ away _ for that! If I got sick, you’d feel it was your fault,” she didn’t specify who, though it could easily mean the both of them, “and I’m just…” She sighed again, lowering her head to rub at a temple and waving the other hand. “It’s fine. I’m just overthinking.” She gave them both a confident smile, though if one looked closely enough, they could see it waver around the edges. “We’ve got this, this time we got this.”

As if on cue, another younger servant rushed up, nearly sliding down the stairs in his rush to stop. “M-Miss Portia!” He gasped, trying to collect air into his lungs. All three at the table moved to help him, Lucio and Julian standing to support him if needed, but he waved them off, shaking his head. “One second, please…” Lucio and Julian sat back down, looking wary. After a moment, the young man collected himself. “We brought the Plague victims here. Where would you like them.”

She stood, sighing heavily. “I’ll show you, c’mon.” She walked away from the way they came, stopping to smile over her shoulder. “Sorry guys, duty calls.” Both men waved her off, completely understanding (or, at least, respecting, in Lucio’s case). With that, she disappeared down the hall, the servant following nervously.

Once she and the other servant were gone, they relaxed into their chairs, sighing heavily. “What a  _ day _ ,” Lucio complained. Julian grunted beside him, already wanting to go back to sleep. But instead, he sat up, and nudged Lucio’s shoulder. “So. What’s a handsome man like you doin’ down here?”

That actually made Lucio laugh. He was thrown forward by the force of his laugh, sniggering and snorting at the  _ really _ bad pickup line. “Oh my  _ God _ , Jules, what the actual  _ fuck _ was that?” He coughed into his hand, staring at Julian with surprise and amusement. “Was that you trying to hit on me?”

Julian cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning on his elbow. “Would you  _ like me _ to hit on you?” He asked, a serious lilt to his voice. Lucio laughed at him for a couple more minutes, occasionally bursting back into giggling fits until he realized that Julian’s expression hadn’t changed. At all. He was being serious. He gaped at him like a fish out of water, pointing between them. “You… want to flirt… with  _ me…? _ ” He blubbered like this for a few more moments. Eventually, however, he sat back and shrugged. “Sure! Hit me with it!”

Julian smirked at him, adjusting to be comfortable. “So… Lucio… What’s the quickest way to your heart?”

The blond chuckled nervously, tapping his fingers. “I uh… I dunno, through my chest, I guess?” It was Julian’s turn to stare at him, mouth agape. They both stared at each other before dissolving into giggles. “What the fuck was that?” Lucio asked, more himself than Julian. The red-head just shook his head, laughing so hard he couldn’t give an answer. They both giggled for a bit more, laughter echoing down the hall, before it finally subsided. They both sat there for a few moments, collecting their breath, content and comfortable silence washing over them.

Not too long after, a servant came out with their food. It was mostly things that Lucio would like, and he felt… a little bad for that. He knew Julian probably wouldn’t have the same tastes as he did, undoubtedly because of their  _ vastly _ different backgrounds, and yet… to his surprise, the man was eating whatever was on his plate. Something with boar. Funny, he thought Julian  _ hated _ boar. It seemed not, because the man was eating it with gusto. He paused in his eating, watching Julian eat for a few moments. It may’ve been odd, but it was… comforting to watch. Seeing the man, who, before, felt so uncomfortable around him, he wouldn’t even really blink, let alone eat, doing it now… It showed how much their relationship had changed, had  _ evolved _ over time. And maybe a good indicator of his own personality changes.

So lost in his thoughts that he barely realized that Julian had caught on. Not until he fixed him with a glare and pointed sharply at Lucio’s own food. “Eat,” he snapped. “I’m not having you pass out again.” Lucio rolled his eyes and scoffed. “That was  _ one time _ , Ilya, it’s not gonna happen again.” Julian rolled his eyes, and reached over to Lucio. He grabbed his hand (and  _ wow _ , Julian’s hands were a  _ lot larger than his own _ , Lucio realized, pleasantly surprised), and held it for a moment before speaking. “One time too many,” he said softly. They sat there for a moment like that until Julian sighed and pulled away first. “Eat as much as you can, then we’ll take you  _ back to your rooms _ ,” he made it clear there was no getting out of it, “and letting you rest for the rest of the day.” When Lucio started to try and whine, he held up a hand. “This isn’t up for discussion,” he said firmly.

Lucio pouted, but turned back to his food, picking at it. He didn’t  _ want _ to just sit up in his rooms, doing nothing. He  _ wanted _ to help. Even if it was just sitting in that boring ass library for the next five years, reading every single book he could until his brain turned to mush and he died. Instead, he weakly chewed at some of the food he could stomach, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. Not eating for almost two days did that for you, he supposed.

Eventually, when it was clear Lucio wasn’t going to be able to eat much, Julian stood, holding his hand out for Lucio. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to your rooms.” Lucio stared at him for a moment, unsure. Julian moved his hand a little, “come on”, gesture. It took him another second before he took it, holding Julian’s hand. It was surprisingly warm, and he flushed slightly at it. Rough and warm and everything Julian was, he supposed as he was dragged through the halls.

Eventually, Lucio was able to (mostly) walk on his own. It was still wobbly, but it was better. He wasn’t about to fall every other step. The corridors seemed to stretch on and remain the same, a dizzying trip that left him lost within the place he built himself (or, at least haunted for 3 years). Occasionally, Lucio swore they had gone down the same hall five times, but Julian promised him they hadn’t. Eventually, he was figuring out where they were, and they were close to at least his wing. He sighed heavily, thankful that they were almost done. He’d forgotten just how big the Palace was. He’d have to see if he could fix that. He was slowing down, body aching and head aching.

He was so busy thinking of ways to make the Palace easier to navigate (and not vomiting), he totally missed the sick man being brought in on the stretcher. Julian didn’t, his frown almost becoming a scowl. “Lucio, c'mere,” he murmured, a soft demand for him to come over. Lucio perked up, lightly jogging forward. “Yea? Wassup?” Julian nodded to the man that was passing by them.

That may not have been the best move, because Lucio looked. He could see the eyes, the blood, the everything. It left him feeling nauseous, dizzy, like everything was falling apart around him. It was  _ real _ again, not just a rumor. He took a step back, away from the Plague. Best as he could, anyways. He felt like just curling into a ball and dying. The two medics carrying the stretcher nodded at him, giving him polite but crisp, “Count Lucio”’s. That may not have been the best idea on their part.

The man on the stretcher’s eyes opened suddenly, the blood red sclera even more obvious than just under his eyelids. His eyes went wide, and his face twisted into a snarl. “You!” He leapt out of his stretcher, arms reaching for Lucio to do God knows what. Lucio screeched, leaping backwards and falling onto a set of small, short stairs right behind him. He fell back, head hitting the edge of one. He groaned as he sat up, headache gone to full on migraine with the fall. He was lucky he didn’t black out then, but he really wished he could. The man was now crawling towards him like something out of an old nightmare he used to have. (And still occasionally did.)

“You did this to me!” The man screamed, clawing at the marble, leaving bright red bloodstains across the bright cream and gold. Lucio could only watch in horror as the man drew closer and closer. He felt panic start to rise, tears welling in his eyes, pleads about to fall from his lips, but just before the man reached him, Julian stepped in front. “I’m deeply sorry sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to step away from my patient.” His voice was flat and unaffected. Calm. Collected. A tinge of annoyance around the words.

The man looked up at him, glaring. “But you said-!”

“I know what I said,” Julian snapped, interrupting the man. “And those days have long since gone by. Now, either let them take you to the hospital or I shall have to do something drastic.” The threat of something left Lucio feeling cold, though the ill man just laughed. “I’m dyin’ anyways! May as well take that sonovabitch with me!” The man leapt forward, and Lucio braced for impact.

Instead, it never happened.

A loud, thundershock of sound and the man dropped dead, whatever brains that had been in his skull now splattered across the wall. Lucio and Julian gaped in shock at the blood on the wall, before Julian’s head whipped to the executioner. “Mazelinka!”

The old woman glared at the dead man for a second longer before grinning at her adopted son. “Well hello there, Ilya, hope you don’t mind me crashing in!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Return of the Red Plague arc. Enjoy your stay.


	12. Grandmother Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a looooong (and long overdue) conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, more Mazelinka action. (And yes, she adopted the Devoraks, don't @ me.)

They’d managed to wrestle Lucio into bed. The blond hadn’t gone without a fight, screeching and bitching about the deadman in his hallway. Mainly about how Nadia was going to kill him for the dead man in the hallway, let alone the blood and whatever bullet hole was now in the marble, that wasn’t just a tile, it was a  _ slab, how were they going to pay for that-?! _

“God, you weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout him never shuttin’ up,” she huffed at her son, giving him a half-hearted glare. She was currently holding Lucio’s golden arm down as Julian pulled from his human, testing his blood. He sighed as he swirled it around the concoction. “Yea, well, he’s had to learn how to put up a fight,” he said wearily.   
“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU, YANNO! I’M NOT DEAF!”

“But be honest, how can you put  _ up with him for that long? _ ” She sighed and rubbed her head, closing her eyes. “Just being around him for this long makes me want to murder myself.” Julian chuckled and smiled warmly back at her. “He has his charms.”

“HELLO?! WILL EITHER ONE OF YOU EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

She sighed, a groan mixed in before she smacked Lucio’s chest. “Will you shut up for five minutes!” She snapped, glaring at him. “I’m  _ trying _ to get a Goddamned explanation, damnit!” He snapped right back, glare murderous. “If I’m gettin’ my blood drawn, I at least wanna know for what!”

“To feed the leeches!” Julian said cheerfully. At Lucio’s blanching, he laughed, nearly doubling over before shaking his head. “No, I’m not  _ actually _ feeding the leeches,” he assured, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just making sure that your blood’s okay. Mazelinka found this combination of herbs that can help figure out certain sicknesses in the blood. Nazali refined it, and left it with Mazelinka. I invited her over to bring it to me, though she was only able to just today, it seems.”

Lucio looked at her in confusion. “I’m… still not sure who you are?” After a second, his tone dawned on him, and he went bright red and looked away. “N-not in a bad way, I just… never had a face to put with the name, that’s all.” Mazelinka squinted at him, eyes boring through his skull. He flinched back, afraid he’d overstepped some unknown line. She kept at it for another beat before breaking out into a smile and laughing, drawing away. Lucio felt all his anxiety drop out, and he gave a weak, nervous chuckle of his own.

She shook her head and slapped her knee, looking at him with bright eyes. “You know, you  _ are _ rather funny Lucio,” she chuckled. “I’m Mazelinka. I raised Ilya and Pasha in Nevivon. Or, at least, in part.” She shrugged. “My wife used to handle more of the raising herself, but she died a few years ago.” There was no anger in her voice, no sadness. Maybe some bittersweetness, but she seemed long at peace with it.

He sat up and nodded. “Did she at least have a good life?”

Mazelinka nodded, eyes a little distant. “Yea… yea, I think she did,” she said softly. After a beat, she looked at Lucio, eyes twinkling warmly and mouth in a smile. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that in a  _ very _ long while.” She gave him a wheezing chuckle. “Thank you, for that.”

He was… honestly surprised. Both by the answer, the quick interim, and especially the thank you. He hadn’t been honestly thanked for something in… years? Ever? He nodded and slowly looked away,staring at the bed spread. It was… honestly gaudy. How much of  _ that _ summed up his life? Gaudy, annoying, flashy, obnoxious. He swallowed down his emotions. Wow, he was  _ really _ annoying, wasn’t he? He was about to spiral, had it not been for Julian’s, “Ah-ha!”

The red-head turned around, holding the blood vial aloft. “Look!” Lucio and Mazelinka sat up, looking at the vial as he lowered it. The blood inside had gone black, and it looked honestly disgusting. Lucio sneered at it. “That’s  _ my _ blood? What happened to it?” He didn’t like that, and it… worried him.

Julian was still grinning as he said, “Yup! It’s  _ fucked! _ Did you know that you’re not only anemic, but you also have a shit immune system?” He was so excited as he leapt onto the bed on his knees, holding the vial. “Look, see how there’s this little bit of clear on top?” He pointed and held it closer to Lucio. “That little bit tells me that your immune system, what keeps you healthy from illnesses, isn’t as strong as a normal person’s. For whatever reason, it’s completely fucked.” He grinned at Lucio. “Isn’t that so cool?!”

Lucio frowned as he took the vial. “And what about the blood turning black?” He asked, voice wary and with the hint of a waver. Julian took in a sharp intake and nodded, sitting down on the bed now. “That’s what tells me you’re anemic. You’re lacking in iron, so that’s also probably not helping your immune system.”

“Huh.” Lucio continued to inspect the vial, pale eyes looking at it in… disappointment? Distrust? Fear? All he knew was that he was thankful when Mazelinka pulled it away from him and frowned at it too. “But none of that’s good things, Ilya,” she scolded, scowling at her adopted son. The red-head flushed and looked away. “Sorry, I guess I was just… so excited to show this off I kinda forgot that it isn’t… exactly good or fun,” he admitted. He looked at Lucio, worriedly. “Sorry for getting so excited.”

Lucio waved a hand, giving him a weak smile. “Nah, it’s okay. Had this been under any circumstance that wasn’t, “The Plague’s Returned,” I would’ve been right there with you in interest,” he admitted, letting his hand flop beside Julian’s lap. He half expected him to ignore his hand, or even scoot a bit away, but instead, Julian gently took it and set it into his lap, giving him a soft smile. Lucio stared at their hands before looking up at Julian, blushing. After a beat of staring, he cleared his throat and looked away. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the weakened immune system was because of the first time I had Plague.”

Julian nodded, frowning and letting his head thunk back against the headboard. “Probably. And coming back didn’t help you at all.” Lucio shook his head and joined Julian in leaning back against the headboard. He looked at him, eyes impossibly soft. “Yea, probably not… though, I am glad I’m here, though.” Julian chuckled, turning to look down at him. “I swear to God, if you say somethin’ sappy…”

Lucio snorted, gently smacking Julian’s chest. “Not on your life,” he teased, flopping over closer to Mazelinka. He was expecting the woman to not react, but instead, she gently started to pet his hair. He sighed and leaned into the touches, feeling more safe and at home than he had in… years. Again, maybe ever. He hummed and almost purred, curling closer to her touches. Mazelinka chuckled, rubbing a spot right behind his ears he hadn’t been aware was hurting. He heard Julian chuckle and felt him lean down and slightly over him, a hand coming up to join hers in his hair. Lucio fairly melted into the bed, eyes closing and breath deepening.

Mazelinka chuffed, pulling slightly on his hair. “Don’t fall asleep on us yet,” she demanded, or more asked. It was in that weird, actual mother way of doing it. He groaned and looked at her, pleadingly. “Why not?” He whined. “I’ve had a long two days.”

“Because if you fall asleep now, we won’t be able to ask you questions,” Julian explained. Lucio grumped and looked over his shoulder at the red-head. “What do you mean, ask me questions?” Julian went red and looked sharply away, starting to stammer. Mazelinka took over for him. “We mainly wanted to ask what you know about the Plague. I followed the medics when they brought that man here, and no one’s sure if you brought the Plague on purpose or not.” She looked at him, eyes and face serious and almost cruel, but the hand in his hair still continued to stroke and be soft and gentle. “Did you?”

Lucio shook his head, eyes wide and full of fear. “N-no, it wasn’t intentional. I uh…” He sighed, and closed his eyes, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of it. “When I was younger, 18, I made a deal with who I would later learn to be Vlastomil. I wanted something to weaken my parents so I could kill them and take over my tribe. The requirements would be that I killed them and brought back their hearts. However, Morga survived, and after she drove me out, I couldn’t hold up my end of the deal.” He took in another breath, this one a bit more shuddering as he continued.

“As I ran, I believe I was bitten by a Plague beetle, more as a way to keep track of me. Whenever I went, about five months later, the Plague would follow me. And it kept happening and kept happening, over and over and over and ov-...!” He stopped himself, feeling the spiral of panic. He took in an even shakier breath, now noticing how Mazelinka was sat on the bed and Julian more firmly behind him. “That explains the military campaign,” she muttered under her breath, more for herself than at him. He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped at Julian’s soft request of, “take a minute.” He did, swallowing heavily before continuing once more.

“It’s why when I became Count, yes, I did the military campaign. And the only reason I stopped was when Vlastomil came to my Court. I thought…” He took in a deeper breath, willing his nerves to return. “I thought the Plague would stop, or at least,  _ lessen _ into a beatable disease.” He swallowed heavily, trying to keep the bitter moisture out of his mouth. “And I thought it worked! Until the Plague came again and  _ worse _ this time. I don’t…” His voice got high and reedy. “I don’t know… I don’t understand just  _ where I went wrong! _ ” He smacked the bed in time to each word, curling in on himself. He sobbed softly, covering his eyes with a forearm. “And now it’s back and I know I can’t do anything, and I-... I-... I feel  _ useless _ …!” His voice cracked there. “And I  _ hate it!” _ He hit the bed again, a bit harder.

Julian was instantly there, laying down behind him, holding him close, and kissing the back of his head. “Shh, Lucio, okay, it’s okay, we’ll find a way to stop this,” he soothed, rubbing a hand gently up and down his arm. He could feel how bad the man was trembling. This was… probably all his worst fears combined, Julian realized with a slight amount of horror. He couldn’t imagine it. Lucio would have to relive the Plague, but with added fears and worries and  _ damage _ . Lucio, better than  _ anyone _ knew what the Plague would do, was rightfully scared.   
He didn’t really respond to Julian’s touches, still sobbing bitterly into his arm. He nearly came out of his skin when Mazelinka set something down in front of his face, starting back into Julian. It took him a second to blink the tear away, and once he did, the image of a soft pillow came through. He stared at it for a second long before gently grabbing it. He looked at her, confused. She smiled warmly, nodding to it. “Hug it. Go on.”   
It took him a moment before he did, and even then, it was painfully slow. He dragged it to his body, as if he couldn’t believe it. Well, not an “as if.” He  _ couldn’t _ believe it. This lady, that he’d  _ barely known _ , and had nearly  _ killed her children _ , was treating him like one of her own. And with much more kindness and understanding already than Morga ever did. He held the pillow close, pressing it against the lower side of his face, taking a moment. “... Lucio?” Julian murmured. “You better?”   
The blonde wiggled back against Julian, eyes soft and unseeing. He was still just trying to get over the actual affection he was being shown. Julian didn’t even question, just wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Lucio made a small, happy noise, though it was still broken. He closed his eyes as he started to sob again, Julian and Mazelinka making sympathetic noises. The older woman reached out and stated to pet his hair, cooing as she spoke. “I cannot  _ imagine _ what sort of horrors he’s gone through,” she said softly. “And what horrors he’s made because of it.”

Julian frowned, holding Lucio tighter, ignoring the soft noise he made. “I know… and I can.” He was still distantly frustrated with Lucio’s actions, but he realized that Lucio probably hated himself more than Julian ever could. That small realization… lessened a lot of his anger. Especially now that Lucio knew what was at cost? The guilt of  _ two _ major Plagues (if not more) were probably eating at him.

Lucio took in a deep, shuddering breath. “And what’s worse… I  _ barely _ remember the military campaign at all!” He sat up quickly, hunching over himself. “I don’t even remember half of it fully,” he whispered, rocking back and forth slightly. “I wasn’t in.  _ Control. _ ”

Julian sat up, casting a confused gaze at Mazelinka. He mouthed Lucio’s last words at her, cocking his head. She only shrugged, equally as confused. They turned back to Lucio, Julian gently leaning his shoulders back. “Lucio, darling… what does that mean?” He  _ did _ act differently in the military campaign… Nadia had even confirmed it. More cruel and brutal in certain battles, but a lot more easy going and even fearful of others. It was… confusing to say the least. Lucio didn’t respond, just sobbed into the pillow. Julian sighed, and leaned forward, curling around the smaller man. “Lucio… honey?” He kissed his temple. “What do you mean by you weren’t in control?”

“It was the Devil,” Lucio whispered, fear wavering his voice. Julian went still, stiff, actually, fear making him remember. The Devil was… well, the Devil. Evil incarnate. He held him close, nose tucked into the soft, blonde hair. “I… I made a deal with the Devil… he…” Lucio stopped and swallowed heavily, allowing himself to cling to Julian’s arms. “He made me do it,” he managed, voice a raspy whisper. “I don’t… don’t remember half of my life because of him…” He sobbed harder, lungs struggling to take air into his lungs. It felt like everything was collapsing around him, and he was panicking. He barely registered Julian gently holding onto him, nor him asking Mazelinka to go get a trash can. All he knew was panic and the spiral and it was just getting worse and worse and  _ oh. _

Julian kissed him. It snapped him right out of it, and he gasped, tears dripping down his face. The red-head pulled back, eyes soft. “You with me now?” He asked softly, legs spread to accommodate Lucio’s frame. The blonde flushed and nodded, eyes huge and watery. “Y-yea,” he murmured. “Mostly.” His hands trembled where they touched the blankets, and he looked a little green. “... I think I’m going to puke.”   
Julian laughed, bringing him into his arms again and kissing his cheek. “I kinda guessed. Can you hold on for a few more seconds?” Lucio nodded, not trusting his voice. He felt the bile rise up and the gag reflex start. Mazelinka came back in the nick of time, holding the can just under the edge of the bed. “He’s sick?”

“I think his anxiety’s made him nauseous,” Julian said softly, right as Lucio vomited right into the trash can. “Nice positioning.” Mazelinka shrugged, giving him a wry smile. “Learned how to do it with you and Pasha,” she chuckled, waiting until Lucio had damn near vomited his toenails up before pulling away. He was still crying, though it had faded to sniffles for the moment. “I-I’m sorry…”

Mazelinka shook her head and waved her hand. “No, don’t be sorry. You’re just having a panic attack, that’s all.” He squinted at her, confused. “Panic attack?” He parroted back. “What’s a panic attack?” She looked at her adopted son behind Lucio, worry now etched into her face. “... You weren’t kidding when you said he doesn’t know how to take care of himself.” Julian ignored Lucio’s telltale, “I’m about to do a hissy fit” noise, covering his mouth with a hand and speaking over his grumbling. “He can take care of himself appearance wise, but the second it comes to actual health?” He shook his head. “No. He can’t.” He was almost surprised when Lucio relaxed. He released his mouth, looking at him worriedly, an equally worried, “Lucio…?” escaping his lips.

The blonde sighed and nodded, pushing his hair back. “No, no… you’re right. I know how to  _ look pretty _ , but I’m not very healthy at all.” He sniffled, wiping at his nose and sneering in disgust as left over bile and mucus smeared across his hand. “I… want to try to work on that, but I’m not sure  _ how _ ,” he admitted quietly, back to being in a ball on the bed. There was a pause, a deadly silence, before he felt a large, rough hand gently hold his cheek, fingers holding under his jaw to pull his head up. He would’ve suspected Julian, except Mazelinka’s hands were rougher, thicker,  _ stronger _ . He let her raise his gaze to hers, and felt comfort rush through his body. Her whiskey eyes held what he would expect in a normal mother. Kind, understanding, but firm.

She held his gaze, and looked at him sternly. “Lucio, the fact that you’re  _ attempting _ to change, and are aware of your past faults tells me all.” He flinched, trying to look away, but she held him firm, confident. “You are a good man below your faults, Lucio. At your  _ heart _ , you are a good man.” She was gentle as she brushed her thumb over his chin, watching him closely. He hummed, closed his eyes, and nuzzled into her hand. “You are willing to change, and for that, I appreciate it.” She raised her other hand, brushing back his hair from his face. “I know what you’ve done the past wasn’t good, but you seem to understand that and are trying to fix all you can, now.” She paused, squinting at him, thinking. After a pregnant pause, “what do you mean “you weren’t in control”, Lucio?”

He took in a deep breath, and sat back. “Well… I was…” He let it out. “I made a deal with the Devil. When I was younger. The deal was that I would have a successful military conquest. I didn’t know what that meant, and it seems to have meant that he’d take over my body occasionally. I…” He put his hands in his hair, running the fingers through it wildly. Mazelinka released his face, leaning down on the bed. “When I say I don’t remember certain things, mostly during the campaign, it’s because-”

“ _ He _ was controlling you,” Julian finished, spitting out the words. He trembled with anger behind Lucio, clutching the sheets. Lucio nodded, slowly. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I literally finished this last minute, so if shit looks odd, that's why. I've been dealin' with shit online, and just... blegh. I hate drama. Especially when it's with corrupt mods. Like, seriously, why does this ALWAYS happen at some point? Anyways...  
> Workin' on the chapters, havin' a ball, existing. You know how this works. If you got fanart or anythin', track me down at AdrianExists on insta, tumblr, and twitter.


	13. An Awkward Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian takes a walk and runs into Lucio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this bit of a shorter chapter. This week's been WILD, man... Still, I hope y'all enjoy.

It hadn’t been too long after that conversation that Lucio had finally passed out, exhaustion of the past few days catching up with him. Julian paced back and forth in his own rooms, Mazelink and Portia watching him anxiously. “Ilya, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm,” Mazelinka grumped, watching her son like a hawk.

He shook his head, gesturing angrily as he said, “Why did he  _ tell us? _ We could’ve helped him!” He ranted, seething. He honestly  _ was _ pissed, but he wasn’t sure if it was at himself or Lucio at this point. Was he pissed at Lucio, because he didn’t say anything? Or himself because he didn’t think twice about the almost complete switch of a person between battles? Or maybe Asra, for not feeling the magical shift in the man. At least when he was older, the actual fuck. He paused in his pacing for a second, barely breathing, before turning and heel kicking a stand nearby. The actual stand went slamming into the wall, while the vase on top shattered on the ground.

He snarled at it, feeling his rage still being pent up. He stood there, hunched over, breathing heavily for a few moments, before standing up straight and running his hands through his hair. He sighed through his nose before, “I need a few minutes alone.”

“Julian,” Portia tried, her and Mazelinka standing up to try and stop him. “Don’t!” He snapped, not looking behind him, aggression staining his voice. After a moment, he calmed himself back down a bit, and answered, a bit more calmly, “I just need some time alone. I promise I’m not running off, or at least, not running off very far.” With that, he left, anger still radiating off his form.

Portia looked at Mazelinka, worry plastered over her face. “What do we do?” She asked, voice on the verge of breaking. “He’s…!” Mazelinka just nodded sagely, huffing a sigh. “I know. He’s just needing some space right now.” She turned to her adoptive daughter, eyes warm and soft. “Come on… let’s go get some space ourselves.” She waved her hand like she was waving away spiderwebs. “This place is stuffy and obnoxious. If I have to stay here one more minute, I’m killing myself.” Portia laughed, leaning up against Mazelinka, eyes closed. She didn’t see the comfort that put her mother in, even as her arm went around Portia’s shoulders and squeezed her a little.

“Alright, alright, I got a cottage not too far from here,” Portia said after a bit, still giggling a little. Sensing the danger (at least for Portia) had passed, Mazelinka nodded. “After you.”

Julian, meanwhile, was now storming down the halls, a set of nailed feet following him close behind. He wanted to snap at the dog, mainly to “ _ get the fuck back in there, it isn’t safe for you to be here! _ ” But his rage left him unable to do that. All he did was cast a glance down to see which dog it was.

Melchior, jagged, torn ear and all, trotted beside him. Alert. The hunting dog’s head swiveled back and forth, keeping an eye on halls and other servants as the doctor marched through the halls. When the dog looked back at him, he gave a curt nod before looking forward and continuing his march. He didn’t see the return nod, but he did hear the dog keep up with him now.

There was a set of large doors at the end of the hallway, and he burst through them with overwhelming appreciation. The fresh air outside made him nearly collapse on his own, and he held himself up on his knees as he let himself rest for a second. Melchior whined and pawed gently at his knee, asking,  _ are you okay? _ He nodded at the hunting dog, hand coming to pet the dog’s head. “I’m fine, Melchior, thanks.” The dog stepped back a paw, watching him intently.

After another minute, Julian stood straight and walked into the Palace gardens, feet taking him a seemingly random way. He brushed his hands over (non-deadly or harmful) flowers and leaves, eventually coming to a stop underneath what looked like a tall bush. It was in a decent sized planter, made up of smooth blocks of marble, a little lip at the top.

He ducked under the branches before plopping down onto the stone, sighing heavily. “What in the actual  _ fuck _ am I supposed to do with that information, Lucio?” He muttered to no one but himself. “The Devil controlling at least half of your actions… Which means that we don’t know what crimes are your own…” He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning long and loud. Melchior hopped up beside him, laying down on the white marble. The dog stared at him, silent. He braced his elbows on his knees, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What the fuck am I supposed to do that info…? Tell Asra and Muriel?”  _ The one’s who’d been hurt the worst by him? _ He sighed even louder before letting his hands drop. He looked at the dog. “What do you think?”

Melchior just stared at him silently. Yet another sigh and he looked at an outer Palace wall. “Yea, that’s kinda about what I  _ thought _ you were gonna say.” He sat there, lamenting his existence, until suddenly, Melchior stood up and nudged his hand. He turned to snap at the dog, namely “stop bothering me,” but the hound took that moment to shove his face the right direction with his snout. He sputtered a little about having a dog nose nearly slam itself into his mouth, but then he saw what Melchior had spotted. Lucio was back up, and was now pacing his rooms like a sick man.

Julian was going to kill him. If Lucio didn’t somehow manage to kill himself first, with his stupid actions.

He stood up, ready to go and yell at Lucio, before Melchior grabbed the back of his waistcoat and dragged him back down. He was tempted to yell at the dog again before he heard Lucio talking. “No, no, that’s not right…! What happened this time?  _ Fuck _ , why can’t I remember?!” He sounded panicked, but Melchior didn’t seem too stressed. Worried, yes, but Julian suspected the dog was keeping him there so he could hear. So, he sat there, pet the hound’s head (earning him a happy little noise), and listened and watched.

He watched as Lucio went back and forth, occasionally disappearing for a few moments before reappearing, seemingly more agitated than the last time. It was… almost pitiful to watch, and he was endlessly confused, until he saw the quill after time five (or six? Maybe seven), and then the ink stains on the man’s hand and wrist and forearm grow more and more pitch black with each pass after that. His confusion turned to worry. After a few more moments, he perked up as he realized what was happening, paying closer attention to what Lucio was saying. The man was writing down what he could  _ remember _ , and probably comparing it to what he was known to have done. It was… almost disheartening, in a strange way. Mainly with how Lucio seemed so stressed about it. It was like watching a man who  _ knew _ part of his life, but could not remember it.

He nearly got up again, but Melchior laid on his lap, ruining his ability to do that without a possible nip. He sighed and continued to the pet the hound. “I’m not sure if you want me to stay to pet you or because you can guess what Lucio’s doing,” he said quietly to the dog. However, given that Mercedes and  _ especially _ Melchior seemed to be all of Lucio’s two braincells combined, it was likely a combination of both. Still, he listened to the dog’s silent advice and watched Lucio. Eventually, after maybe twenty minutes of the man just pacing back and forth, he finally let out a yell of frustration, hands now in his hair and fingers combing through the blonde locks. Julian watched as he paced a bit more, some blonde turning black from the ink, the man seemingly oblivious (or perhaps not caring about his appearance for once) to the ink spreading. After a few moments, there was a soft, barely there clatter of a fine quill being tossed onto a wood desk, and he heard Lucio’s long groan of anger. Another beat before the blonde appeared, now in the same attire he’d been wearing earlier that day. He looked over the gardens, completely missing Julian, before letting out a sigh of relief. He turned back to Mercedes, who was further back in the room. “You comin’, girl? If not, you can stay on my bed and in my room.”

There was a sharp  _ yip _ from the other dog, and she met Lucio on the balcony. He chuckled, kneeling down to play with her ears for a second before standing straight again. He sighed, looking around, hands on his hips for another beat before grabbing the ivy and crawling down the wall of the Palace. Honestly, Julian was impressed. The man crawled down surprisingly quickly, and he didn’t fumble or fall or look at all uncomfortable. Once he was down, he backed away from the wall and looked up at the balcony. “C’mon, girl! Jump! I’ve got ya!” The sound of claws backing up a few paces before rushing forward right after.

Mercedes leapt through the air like a streak of snow before falling safely into Lucio’s arms. He laughed, nuzzling the dog’s face, looking more relaxed than Julian had seen in nearly ten months. He spun the dog a couple of times, enjoying her for a moment with his eyes closed before slowly opening them. They looked at each other for a moment before Lucio pressed a kiss to her nose. She snorfed at him, clearly offended at being kissed on her nose, before Lucio looked up. He saw Julian, and promptly dropped the dog in shock.

Julian made as best of motion as he could to “help”, even though he probably would’ve been too far away had her brother not been on him in the first place. She hit the ground with a small yelp, and Lucio squeaked. He was kneeling again, petting her as he cooed and worried. “Shit, daddy’s sorry, he didn’t mean to drop you, are you okay? Nothing hurt?” The dog grunted at him, snorting and doing a single shake of her head before turning and trotting off to Julian for pets. Which he happily gave.

Lucio gave him an embarrassed smile, hands in his pockets as he wandered over. “Soooo… what’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, as if it was perfectly normal to run into your doctor who just saw you climb out of a window, catch your eighty pound dog, and drop said dog in shock at seeing your doctor. Julian raised an eyebrow. “I came out here to calm down. Why did you just crawl out your window?”

Lucio blanched before sharply looking away, towards one of the holes in the Palace walls. “I’m…” He sighed, heavily, knowing full and well he’d been caught in the act. “I’m going to leave the Palace for a brief moment to go check up on Muriel.” He glared at his doctor. “Is that alright with you?” He asked mockingly. Julian raised an eyebrow at Lucio, more surprised that he was worried about someone else. And on top of that, worried about  _ Muriel _ . As far as he knew, the man  _ hated _ Lucio, and now it seemed Lucio had what could presumably be an open invitation. Odd, but there were worse things, he supposed. It meant that Muriel, at the very least, didn’t feel as afraid of the man. “That’s fine. Do you mind a tag-a-long?”

It was Lucio’s turn to be surprised, and he obviously panicked. He sharply looked away, and went silent for a few beats. After a second, he nodded, swallowing heavily. “Yes, I would… greatly appreciate that.” Julian gave him a soft smile before looking at Melchior. “Do you mind letting me up, Melchior?”

Lucio chuckled, looking at the scene. It was… surprisingly cute. He walked over, petting Melchior’s head once he was in range. The hound butted against his hand happily, groaning a little. Lucio crouched down, getting eye level with the dog as he started to scratch behind his ears. “Look at you, trusting Julian enough to let him pet you… laying his lap,” he murmured, clearly enamored by the image. Julian flushed, somehow touched by this. It felt… natural? Normal?  _ Right? _ What had happened in the last three days that’d made him fall in love with this man?

Or… maybe it’d been a lot longer, and he was just now cresting the wave. Probably that. Still, he chuckled softly, letting his hand go into Lucio’s hair and pet it in return. The blonde froze for a second, eyes wide, before they fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch with a sigh. It looked like most of the stress from the day, or week, faded from his body, as he nearly collapsed into Julian’s leg. The red-head felt pity, no, sympathy ache through his heart. He knew these days. They were tiring, and considering Lucio was just  _ now _ getting decent and healthy support, these types of days were sure to wipe him out. Julian had no issue petting his hair (plus, it was fluffy, so that wasn’t too hard to do) if it meant the ex-Count could melt against him like this.

They sat there for a few more moments before Lucio finally opened his eyes and slowly drew himself up into a stand. He wobbled, hand shooting out to grab onto Julian’s shoulder for support. Julian gently grabbed Lucio’s elbow with one hand, the other coming to grab his other hand. Melchior hopped off, and he rose to his feet as well. Lucio’s head was bowed, and he looked rather ill. “Lucio, you don’t have to go if you don’t feel well,” Julian murmured, voice stained with worry. The blonde shook his head, letting his forehead rest against Julian’s chest. “No, I’m fine,” he breathed, sounding very not fine.

Julian frowned down at him, bringing Lucio into a hug and rocking back and forth slightly. “Lucio, you don’t look alright and you have no food in your system…” He lowered his head so he was closer to his ear, still gently rocking Lucio. “C’mon, let’s go back up to bed, and I’ll even stay there with you, okay?” Lucio shook his head, making a small little, “hm-mm!” He paused for a moment, breathing in Julian’s scent, shaking slightly. “I… I need to check myself…” He then pulled out a small letter, holding it up for Julian to inspect. Julian’s eyebrow raised, and he looked down at Lucio. “What’s that?”

“Reparations,” Lucio answered nearly instantly. “For Muriel… for… what I did to him.” His voice was low and quiet, tears on the edge of it. Julian made a soft, whining hum of sympathy, the noise carrying the intention he couldn’t say himself. One hand went to hold onto Lucio’s head, and the other went to his mid back, and pressed the man closer. Lucio didn’t fight it, instead welcomed it, wrapping his arms around Julian’s middle and pressing his face as tightly into his chest as he could. He made a soft, barely there sob, one that spoke of exhaustion of both mind and body. Julian made a soft cooing noise, shushing and soothing the other man as best he could. He didn’t know what else to do to help, and he hated it. Lucio, for all his faults and mistakes in the past, was actually  _ trying _ , and he deserved just a little appreciation for that.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Lucio took in a deep, shuddering sigh, and started to pull away. Julian let him, though his hands just migrated to Lucio’s upper arm and the back of his neck. The blonde let his eyes flutter open, and storm gray met platinum. “You okay?” Julian asked, the hand on Lucio’s neck moving to gently cup his jaw. The blonde nodded. “You sure?” Another nod. “Okay. Do you want me to go with you?” Yet another nod. Julian made another soft noise, bringing him close. “Okay. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: I'll have more time to work on this fic as I've been fir- I mean, "benched" from my job. So more time for fic writing! Yay...! I think.  
> Second off: Migraines S U C K. I've been having them all day since 3am. Aura/Vestibular migraines suck. Also, did you know that's part of the reason I was "benched"? Because I left early TWO TIMES due to migraine (one was for an actual migraine, the other was for therapy for said migraines). So yea, fuck my (soon to be) old bosses.  
> Anyways... On a more positive note, my mom's birthday is the 3rd, so say happy birthday to her, dear readers. Trust me, she could use it... Now that my bitching and advertising for my mum's birthday's done, don't forget that I've got social media in case ya wanna send me shit. AdrianExists on basically everywhere but Reddit, I think. Take care, y'all.


	14. Off we go to Muriel's house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Name says it all.

Lucio dragged him to the side of the Palace, and looking at what, to Julian, just struck him as honeysuckle covered arch. He turned to Lucio and raised an unbelieving eyebrow. The blonde huffed at him before pointing to a small opening in the honeysuckle. Julian looked at the hole, then back at Lucio, gesturing to it with a sort of,  _ and? _ Lucio rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “It’s a hidden entrance, idiot.” As he said that, Mercedes slipped through the hole, and Melchior just stared at them.

Julian’s eyebrows raised, and he looked impressed. “I… didn’t know this was here,” he admitted, arms dropping. Lucio chuckled, shaking his head a little. “You don’t know a  _ lot of stuff, _ Jules.” His tone wasn’t unkind, though he could still tell his words bothered the red-head. He gently bumped their shoulders together. “Hey,” he said softly.

Julian looked at him, eyes wide, an expression on his face. “How long have you been doing this?” Lucio hummed and thought on it, putting a hand on his chin. “Oh, I’ve been doing this ever since I came back? So what, almost a year now?” He shrugged, kneeling down so he could crawl through the hole. “And I mean, we’ve gotten to the point where we tolerate each other, so…” He paused for a beat, and frowned. “Well… more like  _ Muriel _ can tolerate me. Ironically enough I…” He started to crawl through the hole, stopping for another beat. “I actually  _ really _ like him as a friend… he isn’t afraid to tell it to me like it is, but he’s also not…  _ cruel _ with it, yanno?” He slid through the hole, and stuck a hand out to gesture Julian through. “C’mon. Before a servant sees.”

Julian looked around the garden debating. It was really starting to feel like a trap but… if this went wrong, it’d be on Lucio’s head, not his. He decided to trust the man and slip through, surprised (yet not) to see no trap and instead, Lucio grumbling about something about his dog getting into the flowers again. He took a step forward and looked around Lucio, the blonde noticing and pointing, indignantly, to Mercedes. Who was, true to Lucio’s word, rolling around in a bunch of sweet, yellow flowers and dying her fur a light yellow. Julian laughed, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. Melchior had followed him through at some point, butting the back of his knees. “Okay, okay, sorry,” he stage-whispered before looking over at Lucio. The blonde had been staring at him, wide eyed, until Julian looked back at him. He sharply looked away, flushing red and clearing his throat. “Shall we?” Julian chuckled, and stepped closer, bumping their shoulders together to get Lucio’s attention. The blonde jumped a little, eyes wide and startled as he looked at Julian. The red-head gave a soft smile and a small nod. “We shall.”

Lucio’s flush didn’t go down, and just seemed to get deeper. After a moment of staring, he seemed to pull himself out of whatever trance he’d been in and lead Julian down a corridor between the wall of vines and the actual wall of the Palace. Julian let his hands run across the rough stone, surprised that this was even here. “How did you  _ find this? _ I know the Palace wasn’t built by you, but still…”

Lucio shrugged, and kept walking. Mercedes had run out up front, chasing whatever lived in the corridor and generally being a terror to small rodents. He ignored this, keeping his eyes forward. He moved almost robotically, and was surprisingly silent. So much so that it unnerved Julian. He did a light job forward to catch up, grabbing Lucio’s wrist and stopping him with a very soft, “hey.” The blonde didn’t even fight it, just stopped, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. Julian cupped his cheek with his free hand and brushed his thumb over Lucio’s cheek bone. “Hey, what’s wrong?” The same tone remained there, soft and worried and careful. Lucio nuzzled into his hand, and trembled. After a moment, he let out a small hiccup. “I’m just tired, Jules,” he admitted, voice high and reedy. “I’m just so fucking tired, Ilya… So. Very fucking tired.” His voice dropped at the end, and he raised his hand to hold Julian’s there.

Julian hummed softly, forcing himself to gloss over his first name being said. “Lucio… do you need a hug?” His heart broke a little when the blonde nodded and tucked his arms in on himself. He held his arms open, and watched as Lucio shuffled into them. He wrapped them around the blonde, and sighed heavily, starting to rock lightly again. After a beat, he hummed, and kissed the top of his head. “Today just… isn’t your day, is it, Lucio?”

Lucio gave a little, “hm-mm…” in response, shaking his head. After a long moment like that, Lucio took in a shaky breath and pulled back. “I’ll be fine,” he said softly. “I just…” He paused and looked at the ground, face stricken. “I may need a few more times of that,” he admitted, looking like it was bile escaping his mouth. Julian knew the face he was giving. Bordering on pity, sympathy so deep it hurt. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. “Tell me whenever you need that, alright?” When Lucio didn’t respond, he put a finger under his chin and tilted his head up so they were looking each other in the eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucio replied weakly, voice cracking a little. Julian let him go, gently brushing his fingers across Lucio’s jaw as he did. The blonde hummed, content yet sad at the same moment. He watched as Julian’s hand fell, and looked at it wistfully. Julian chuckled before holding it out. “Do you want to hold my hand?”   
“Yes please,” Lucio said quickly, taking it before either of them could think twice. With that, Lucio started to drag him down the corridor more, seemingly content with that amount of physical thought. Julian chuckled again and followed with no hesitation.

It still took them a while to get where they needed to go, apparently, as Julian didn’t even watch Lucio as they kept walking. He only stopped when he ran right into the man with a small, “oof!” Lucio didn’t even budge, which was impressive, given that he still had four inches on the man. Julian wanted to pout, but he didn’t, instead, raising a quizzical eyebrow to his companion. Lucio didn’t respond, putting his hand up against a brick. It didn’t seem to do anything for a moment before falling away, like it had never been there. Julian’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline from surprise, and his eyes flicked over it over and over again. “What the  _ hell…? _ ” He whispered, leaning forward and shoving a hand through the hole. Nothing. Only air, even as he swished it around.

The dogs trotted through, seemingly already aware of where to go. Lucio turned back to him, watching for any other reactions. Julian took a step forward from behind Lucio, and kept testing the disappeared wall. “How in the hell…?” He stepped through where the wall  _ should _ be, and laughed, incredulous. “Holy shit… and you  _ made this? _ ” He asked, still laughing as he spun around. It went straight through the nearly twenty foot thick wall, with the dogs already sitting (or running around) on the other side. Lucio shrugged as he put his hands into his pockets, walking forward and smiling. Julian still looked at it, impressed at the magic. “You like?” Lucio eventually asked, slightly drawing out the “like”.

“Yes, I like it a lot,” Julian admitted, a little breathless. He finally stopped looking up and looked back at Lucio. “How on earth did you  _ make _ this?” There was no scorn or anger in his tone, or even bitter resentment. It was pure awe and joy. Lucio gave an awkward chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. “I dunno… I found it, if I’m honest.” He stopped just beside Julian, and gently bumped their shoulders together. “Remember, I didn’t make the Palace, as much as people like to say I did.” Julian paused, and nodded. “Yea, that’s right… I remember that.”

Lucio nodded and started walking again, Julian now following. “Kinda a prick, wasn’t he?” Julian asked. “Last Count?” Lucio nodded again. “Yup.” He popped the p. “Bastard couldn’t keep his hands offa me…” Lucio hunched over, seething at the memories before catching himself. He took in a deep breath, straightened up, and let it out. “Sorry… I  _ really _ dislike that guy.” Julian frowned at the blonde’s reaction and words, and it didn’t take him long to figure out what happened. He didn’t state it, however. Lucio would probably be able to guess. He nodded instead, and put his arm around Lucio’s shoulders. “Yea, I can bet.” They were now clear of the tunnel, which bricked up after them. He turned his head to watch it, giving another little laugh. “That’s stupendous,” he breathed, still in awe.

Lucio paused for a beat before shaking his head and grinning. He looked up at him, bemused. “I wouldn’t say it’s  _ that _ impressive,” he chuckled, flushing a little. “It’s just another gate, that’s all.” Julian stared at him in disbelief. “Lucio,” he stopped them both, the dogs rushing up ahead, “a twenty foot thick wall just let a decent sized tunnel through it that’s hidden from seemingly all staff except you,” he said slowly, enunciating every word. “I do believe I have the right to call it stupendous.”

Lucio’s flush got worse, staring in shock and awe for a second before giggling. He swatted Julian away gently, doubling over to hide his giggles and face. “What?” Julian asked, voice a little weak from the surprise and from amusement. “What’s so funny?” Lucio’s giggles turned into full blown laughter, and he caught himself on his knees, waving a hand. It seemed infectious, as Julian started laughing too. When Lucio started to cough (it seemed his lungs were still scarred from the last bout of Plague he had), he carefully pounded on the man’s back with his hand. “You okay?”

Lucio stopped laughing and coughed into his hand for a bit more, nodding. After a moment, he let it drop and wheezed, still doubled over. It sounded painful, enough so that Julian felt panic shoot up his spine. He gently grabbed either side of Lucio’s shoulders, holding onto him. “Hey, hey… You okay?” Lucio nodded again, still gulping down air and wheezing. “I’m fine,” he managed, looking not fine. He gestured at his chest as he spoke. “My lungs, ah… aren’t quite what they used to be.” He looked up at Julian and gave him a small, wry smile. “I’m fine,” he promised quietly as he started to stand up straight. Julian let him go and took a small step back. “You sure?” He asked, hands now up in case he had to grab him. Lucio nodded, took a couple more breaths, and kept walking. “I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Julian didn’t sound convinced, but they both knew he wouldn’t push it.

They continued to walk, a surprisingly clear path through the wood. Lucio would occasionally point out a creature or object, usually a tree or rock, that was important or interesting. “And that right there is a red crested warbler. If you ever hear a high chittering in early night, it’s them.”

“Fascinating…” Julian watched as the mostly brown and white bird fluttered through the trees, it’s head a vivid red. “Now, is that a male or female?” He asked, pointing to it. Lucio squinted at the bird, and frowned. He thought for a moment before relaxing and returning to front. “Female. Males are all red, much like cardinals.” Julian gave a little impressed “huh”, pausing for a moment before taking a couple of steps to catch up. “You seem to know a lot about the wildlife here.”

Lucio shrugged, seemingly nonplussed. “Kinda hard  _ not _ to, if I’m honest. I had books and experience to lean off of, plus,” he gently nudged him, “didn’t have much to  _ do _ during the first Plague. And three years as a ghost.” Another shrug, this one lasting for a second. “May as well read a book or two.” Julian put a hand over his chest and feigned shock. “You? Knowing how to read?” He put the back of his hand against his forehead and vaguely swooned. “I am  _ shocked _ .” Lucio rolled his eyes and gently pushed Julian, snorting in amusement. “Yea, yea, like I ain’t heard  _ that one _ before,” he retorted back playfully.

Julian stood up straight and they both shot each other amused smiles before a comfortable silence fell over them.

It took them nearly an hour and thirty minutes before they arrived, and Julian had to admit, he was breathing a little heavily. “Wow…” He gestured forward with his thumb. “And you walk this path every month?” Lucio nodded, looking up at the steep hill the dogs were already climbing. “Yup. Twelve times a year,” he confirmed, crossing his arms. He was already spotting the holds he used for himself before taking in a deep breath. “Welp, c’mon. Up the hill we go.” With that, he started the climb.

Julian watched for a second, debating with hands on his hips, before shrugging and following Lucio up.

The rest of the walk was fairly easy. And mostly silent. It was… nice, actually. If Julian was honest. Quiet and calm, with Lucio not complaining about his boots getting muddy or about animals or anything. If anything, Lucio seemed to know this path better than Julian, mostly because he’d occasionally warn Julian about something he nearly stepped in  _ just _ before he did without turning around. Julian was debating being pissed by time five before just following Lucio’s trail perfectly. Seemed easier and safer that way. After that point, he stopped falling into holes. He was actually impressed. It showed that Lucio had been down this path enough that he knew it probably better than the back of his hand.

It took another few moments before they came across a small clearing. Julian recognized Muriel’s home from the last couple of times he’d been there with Asra, though there was a lot new. Like a new door, some new trees and bushes surrounding the edge, a large willow finally revealed with a small outdoor set made of cast iron under it, and the entire garden had a redo. It was full of herbs and vegetables and was that a greenhouse just in the back? Julian gave an impressed whistle. “I’m guessing this is your doing?”

Lucio nodded, watching as Mercedes and Melchior (mainly the former) went  _ slamming _ into the side of a wolf who had been laying there. Inanna, if Julian remembered correctly. The wolf didn’t even seem to mind too much, playfully yapping and nipping at the air close to Mercedes. The two hounds got into play crouches, and the wolf joined in. After a moment of micro barks, little growls, and other excited noises, all three went racing into the woods, yelping and yipping and barking and howling playfully. The two men watched them go and watched where they ran into the woods from for a moment, until the leaves stopped shaking. Once they had, Lucio sighed heavily, and started to walk to the door. “Muriel probably knows we’re here…” Julian moved to come with, but the blonde held up a hand. “Look, just… lemme talk to him first, alright?” He let out a breath, trying to collect himself. “I don’t want the man getting startled.”

Julian nodded, and took a step back, hands up. “I understand. Muriel’s…” He paused as he thought of a way to phrase it. “... defensive,” he decided. Lucio gave him a crooked smile and a quirked brow. “Sounds like you’ve ran into him before.” Julian chuckled and bobbed his head, shrugging as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess you could say that,” he said, giggling slightly. Lucio snickered, and the two men kept that moment for a breath. Once their amusement had faded, they both looked at each other, a soft moment in the air. Lucio was the one who broke it, panic breaking across his face as he sharply looked away. Julian frowned, taking a step forward and raising a hand, as if to reach out to him. He only dropped it when Lucio turned all the way to Muriel’s door and marched over to it. He flushed and held himself in his arms for a moment before sighing and relaxing in place. It seemed Lucio was scared of… something, for some reason now. It seemed strange, given how much he was clinging to him earlier, but he also knew better than anyone that healing was a dance. You had to go forward, but you also went back a few times.

Lucio was flushed, and unsure as to why he was uncomfortable. Maybe because it was Julian and Muriel? Asra and Nadia’s former (or not so former) friends? Was it that Lucio was in love with Julian and he was afraid of hurting him? Of leading him on when he  _ knew _ he was going to probably die of Plague?

… no, it was most  _ certainly _ that last one.

He cast it from his mind as he knocked on the door, before taking a step back and waiting. Sure enough, he heard Muriel mess (or maybe even knock over) something inside, as there was a clattering and Muriel’s muffled, “shit…” He chuckled to himself, finding some comfort in that Muriel was comfortable enough with him around to not panic entirely. Sure enough, after another moment, the door opened, and a slightly unkempt Muriel poked his head out. He was wearing the black shirt Lucio had gifted him, along with the comfortable pants he had been gifted by him as well. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and there was flour smudged on his face. Lucio smirked and put his hands on his hips. “Were you baking something?”

Muriel blinked at him, looking almost like a deer in headlights, before looking around. “What on earth do you mean?” He chuckled nervously, his smile fading as he looked slightly panicked. “Do I have something on my face?” Lucio kind of scratched on his face where the flour was on Muriel’s, and the larger man’s eyes went wide. He wiped at the area, and swore when his fingers came away white. He gave another chuckle as he shrugged and raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ve been found out.” He turned back into his home to get what he had been working on. “Betrayed by my own flour.”

Lucio cackled, taking a step forward and remaining in the doorway. He knew better than to enter the man’s home. He looked inside and watched Muriel, however. The entire place  _ looked _ better. It wasn’t as shabby as it was before, mainly because Lucio had helped him buy all new furniture. It looked warm and cozy, with an actual bed in the corner, a small kitchen table and  _ kitchen _ (that had been a bitch to set up, one of the few times Lucio had been allowed inside the house), with some chairs in front of the fireplace and actual wood floors. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame, smiling softly. It seemed like Muriel had been working on cookies, and he chuckled softly. “You’re spoiling me,” he teased.

Muriel rolled his eyes, snorting in amusement. “Says the man that’s pulling money out of his own dwindling bank account to keep me and other servants afloat.” He turned and waved a wooden spoon at him. “Don’t think Nadia hasn’t told me all about  _ that _ .” It was Lucio’s turn to hold his hands up in mock surrender, shrugging. “You caught me.” They both snickered before Muriel returned to working on the cookies. After a moment, Lucio swallowed and cleared his throat. “Look, Muriel… Julian’s here.”

The large man jumped, nearly dropping the tray. He turned and glared at Lucio, and the blonde shrunk away. It reminded him  _ way _ too much of earlier in their relationship. “You what?” Muriel snapped, tone cold. Lucio held up his hands. “Look, I just…” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, dropping the front. “I’ve had a bad couple of days… I had Julian come with me for moral support,” he admitted.

Muriel’s scowl faded into an understanding frown, and Lucio released the breath he was holding. Muriel returned to the cookies, and set them on a plate. “So this isn’t just your normal tea and reparations,” he deducted. Lucio shook his head. “No, sadly…”

Muriel sighed heavily, but nodded. “Alright. Go sit out in the outdoor chairs. I’ll be there in a moment.” Lucio nodded, about to turn back to Julian when Muriel stopped him with a soft, “hey.” He turned back, eyebrow raised. “After you tell me what’s going on… fill me in on what’s happened with you?” His expression was painfully soft. “Please? I know you have a nasty habit of keeping what you’re feeling inside.” He gave him a wry grin. “If we’re  _ anything _ alike, you’d rather stab yourself than tell anyone.” Lucio blanched, and looked sharply away and at the ground. Muriel’s frown returned, stained with worry. “... You did, didn’t you?” He asked slowly. “Stabbed yourself?”

Lucio was silent for another moment before nodding slowly, forcing himself to not cry. Muriel sighed heavily, setting the cookies down and walking over to him and setting a large hand on Lucio’s shoulder. Lucio started and looked up, eyes wide and terrified. He was still on edge, even as he saw the deep sympathy in Muriel’s eyes. “We’ll talk later,” he promised before turning back around. “Go get Julian and sit down. I’ll be out there in a moment.”

Lucio followed instructions, returning back to Julian with his shoulders hung low. The red-head frowned when he walked over, and set a hand on his shoulder. “Lucio? Are you alright?” The blonde nodded before letting out a deep breath. He looked up at him with a shaky smile, raising his hand to hold onto Julian’s. “I’m fine,” he assured. “C’mon, let’s go sit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm workin' on chapter 15 rn. Maybe I'll get back into my writing swing of writing two chapters a week. Wouldn't that be nice? Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed! I love reading your comments, so feel free to share your speculation down there. I love what y'all come up with.


	15. Connecting Some Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small chat over tea and cookies.

They sat at the table, waiting for Muriel to join them. Lucio picked at some fallen leaves on the table with his metal hand, pulling them apart into little scraps before letting them flutter to the ground and working on a new one. Julian just watched him, leaned back, hands tapping no particular beat onto his legs. They both had remained silent when they sat down, and continued to remain so. Julian was surprisingly okay with this all.

After another moment, Muriel finally came out, a small tray on his hands. He joined the other two and set it down, cookies and tea and a cup of coffee (which explained why it took him so long to join them) on it. Julian took the coffee gratefully, nodding his thanks before taking a sip. He hissed at the bitterness before humming. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“No problem.” Muriel turned his attention to Lucio almost instantly, and raised an eyebrow. “You had something to tell me?” Lucio and Julian shot a quick, worried glance at each other before Julian sighed heavily. He sat forward and set the coffee on the table, leaning his elbows on the table so he could still gesture with his hands as he spoke. “It seems that the Plague is back. We’ve managed to contain it thus far, but, well…” He gave Muriel a grim look. “You know how bad it is that the Plague’s back.”

Muriel gave a noise of confirmation and sat back, sipping his tea. “Mm, I do. One of the only reasons I escaped the Colosseum,” he admitted casually. Lucio and Julian flinched at the same moment, sharing the same worried look with each other. They didn’t know that, though it made sense. If the only way he could get out was when the owner got sick, then he may even see the Plague as a somewhat good thing. That look continued until Muriel spoke again. “It was still horrible. I was one of the few to get out alive.” A shadow fell over his countenance, and he sat forward. “I still remember the utter  _ devastation _ it caused there…” He shook his head, forcing the memories to clear themselves. “Another story for another time.” Instead, he turned back to them, a softer frown on his face. “Explain this whole new Plague thing.”

Julian and Lucio shared another look before Lucio opened his mouth to start speaking, only to have Julian cut him off. “It started down at the South Side docks. A ship came back with beetles on it. We’ve been trying to stymie the spread of it, burning whatever came off the ship and whatever dead remained on board, but it seems to already be spreading. We’ve already gotten nearly a  _ dozen cases _ that’re currently at the Palace alone. Within twelve hours.”

Muriel grunted and took a sip of his tea. “What else do we know?” He asked gruffly, glaring at Julian, determined and focused. “It seems to be caused by Lucio’s presence, though why it waited  _ this long _ to come back is…” Julian took in a breath and held it before scratching at the back of his head, letting out the breath long and loud. “It’s unknown, to be honest. If it’s caused by Lucio, we aren’t sure why it’s waited nearly a year to come back.”

Muriel grunted again, tapping the table with his fingers. “And that’s all we know?”

“That’s all we know.”

Lucio sat awkwardly, hands firmly fidgeting in his lap, eyes on his cup on the table. He felt like the Plague was  _ entirely _ his fault, and in a sense, it was. If he hadn’t made the deal with Vlastomil all those years ago, none of this would’ve happened, for better and for most obviously worse. Honestly, he really regretted even being born at this rate, since it seemed like his mother still equally hated him. He kept silent, just sort of vaguely listening as the other two continued talking, jumping from conversation to conversation, but always eventually getting back around to the Plague and the Palace. It was a long while that they talked before Julian elbowed Lucio in the side, making the blonde grunt. “What?” He snapped.

“We  _ said _ ,” Julian sneered, rolling his eyes, “what do you think?” Lucio blinked at him. “What do I think about what?”

“About the Plague coming back,” Muriel chimed in, sipping his tea once again. Both taller men stared at him, and Lucio felt rather small. Like a puppy instead of a hound. That had been becoming a fairly normal thing at these meetings. They usually started out well, but Lucio would say something, and Muriel would either take it the wrong way or maybe Lucio was just  _ that annoying _ (he honestly wasn’t sure, he knew he talked a lot), and then Lucio would be asked to leave and he would. He took in a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “I mean, it’s… bad,” he muttered awkwardly. “Very bad… and I’m pretty sure it’s caused by me, so…” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I’m not sure what to think…!” He played with something on the table, staring down at the grassy ground. “... I honestly still think I’m in shock,” he admitted quietly.

And honestly, he probably was. There was an undeniable fear that permeated his body. The anxiety of knowing he was doomed to get the Plague again, to constantly spread it. It made him sick, and he felt it coil up in his belly and around his throat. He swallowed heavily and looked deeply into his tea. It was good, sweet like he liked, but he didn’t feel all that wanting of it. So, he played with the cup, gently spinning it by the handle to distract himself. “I’m uh… I’m not sure what else to say.”

“What’re you prepared to do?” Muriel asked him point blank. “I mean, you can’t just sit there and do nothing again.” Lucio flinched, grimacing slightly and keeping his eyes away. Muriel was right, he’d basically done nothing about the Plague until it affected him, something he… shouldn’t have done. He held onto the edge of the table, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m not just doing nothing this time… I’m already planning on bringing some of the remaining doctors in the city to the Palace to see if we can at least slow down the effects of the Plague, and I’m looking at training more, along with seeing if there are any beetles aboard the ship they brought in.” He leaned on the table, gesturing as he spoke, deep in his thoughts. “And we’ll also have to check the path they came in on. We have the sewers, and while they aren’t the  _ nicest _ to crawl or bring a body through on, it’s better than over top, especially since it seems the beetles are starting to  _ breed _ in and on the bodies now. I’m also going to need to look at resources outside the city, maybe in Prakra or even out of continent…” He tapped the table and hummed, seeing battle plans and ideas in front of him, on paper that wasn’t there. “The tax reforms I was working on will have to wait until after the Plague’s dealt with, even as tempting as it is to keep going ahead with it right now…”

Muriel groaned and smacked the table, making Lucio and Julian jump. He glared at the blonde, expression stormy. Lucio gulped and drew back, ready to run if needed. This was usually the expression he wore right before telling Lucio to get the fuck out, and that he needed time to process his “inane ramblings.” Muriel glared at him for a beat more before pushing out through his teeth, “but what are  _ you _ planning to do?” Lucio frowned and stared at the table. “You mean… if push comes to shove?”

Muriel sat back down, not even aware he’d stood up until he took in a deep breath. He nodded, eventually saying a quiet, “yes,” when he realized Lucio still hadn’t looked up at him. Lucio remained silent for a long while. Eventually, he shrugged sadly, face bordering on bitter as he finally spoke. “Honestly, I’ll probably kill myself.” He said it disturbingly casually, as if that was the  _ normal _ thought to have. Muriel forced himself to remain sitting and to not rise to his feet in rage. Instead, he took in deep breaths and let them out, keeping himself calm. “So what, you’re just going to run away from your issues?” He asked eventually, biting and a bit harsher than he meant it.

Lucio blanched and shook his head. “What, no! It’s just…” He looked stricken, sick with nerves and trembling slightly. “If my death is what’s going to save the city, it’s a very viable option I need to take into account.” There was a terse silence afterwards, mainly of Julian and Muriel staring in horror at him. Lucio looked between them, confusion plain on his face. “... what?”

“That isn’t a normal  _ response _ , Lucio!” Julian screeched. He was beyond disturbed and even more so distraught. Mostly because,  _ where in the fuck had  _ **_that_ ** _ come from? _ Lucio had  _ never _ given off indicators that he wanted to die, or was even  _ okay with it _ . He’d even looked for ways to  _ not die _ . Why would he suddenly be okay with dying? Unless… no. Muse over missed signs later. For right now, they needed to just…  _ talk _ to Lucio. He opened his mouth to speak again before Muriel interrupted him. “So is  _ that _ why you stabbed yourself?” He asked point blank, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Lucio looked aghast and offended. More aghast. “We were supposed to talk about that in  _ private _ ,” he hissed, glaring at him and leaning over the table. Julian paused, trying to process what was just said. “Well, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Muriel snipped back sarcastically, “I didn’t know that you committing  _ self-harm _ was something I had to keep private from your  _ doctor! _ ” He gestured angrily at Julian, who was still standing in shock. “And what, you didn’t  _ tell him?! _ ”

“NO!” Lucio shrieked, looking more and more distraught. “Of course I didn’t tell him! It was nothing to worry about!”

“But you  _ stabbed yourself- _ ”

“Enough, both of you!” Julian roared, fixing them both with withering glares. Lucio shrunk away, looking bitterly at the ground. Muriel, who’d started to stand up, sat back down heavily, glaring at Julian. Julian took in a deep breath, and leaned on the table, his other hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just… hold on.” He couldn’t exactly blame Muriel, especially if he just found out about it too, but he was pissed at Lucio. He turned to the blonde, keeping a lid on his rage, though it was clear he was about five seconds from reaching over and strangling Lucio. “You…  _ stabbed _ yourself recently… and didn’t tell me.” He narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him. “And you didn’t… you didn’t think that I…?”

“I-I didn’t want to bother or annoy you!” Lucio stammered, leaning away and hunching over even more. It was the truth, well, for the most part. He didn’t add in that the reason he didn’t was because Julian had, in some capacity, been part of it. He never could. “And… I didn’t want you to be more mad at me,” he admitted quietly. He continued to look silently at the floor for a few more moments. When silence greeted him, he looked up, expecting either stunned silence or them to be gone. Instead, he was greeted with a fuming Julian and Muriel, more so the former. He looked ready to reach across and kill him, not that Lucio could blame him. After a few seconds of looking murderous, Julian opened his mouth to speak. He was about to go on a rant before, “I think… I’m going to head home.”

Lucio was honestly flinching and trying to creep away, looking awkward and worried and  _ afraid _ . Something that he only really looked when his mother was around… Julian felt a stab of pity and distress at that. Lucio was looking at them, at  _ him _ , like he was Morga. He raised a hand to reach out for the blonde, but that just seemed worse. Lucio turned and left. He didn’t quite walk, he didn’t quite run, but he was quick as he basically scurried away, shoulders hunched and head down. If he had a tail, it’d certainly be between his legs.

“Lucio!” Julian shouted after him, frustrated beyond measure. “Get the fuck back here!  _ Lucio! _ ” He rounded the table, intending to follow him, eyes ablaze and voice harsh. That seemed to not do what he wanted, because when Lucio turned, Julian stopped dead in his tracks. Pure, unadulterated  _ fear _ marred them. It… hurt to look at. Enough so that all of his anger faded in an instant. He whispered his name again, hand stretched out, pleading him to stay. Lucio shook his head, and darted away, disappearing into the woods without another word.

Julian stood there, trying (and failing) to process what just happened. “He just… ran…?”

“Complete wrong way of the Palace, too,” Muriel added on with a sip of his tea. “He’s just going further into the forest.” He shook his head and sighed, taking a cookie and snacking on it. “If anything, he’s going to hit that wheat field that’s on the edge of the forest.” Julian whirled to him, face pale and in shock. “What do you mean?” Muriel shrugged and pointed in the direction that Lucio rushed off into. “That leads out of Vesuvia. To Nopal.” He dropped his hand, pulling out a book and starting to read it again. Julian stared at him, face seemingly stuck in shock. Muriel rolled his eyes to look up at him, gesturing after Lucio. “Well, go! Before the idiot runs him _ self _ out of Vesuvia.” Julian didn’t need a second offer.

  
  


Okay, so running from his problems  _ wasn’t always a good idea _ . But he’d been dealing with the rest of them head on for a little over half a year, so give him a break. He was tired of always working to be a good person. He just needed a few moments of  _ not _ being a good person. Of just… not being around anyone. It made him scared. He was honestly terrified of it all. His thigh screamed in pain, enough that he didn’t pay attention to it. He tripped over a rock that jutted up from the ground, sending him flying forward, ass over tea kettle, and onto a series of marble hard roots in front of him.

His entire hand was skinned when he tried to stop his fall, and the sudden shift forward ripped his thigh open. He shrieked, in surprise and then in pain, curling around his hand and leg. He forced himself to bite down a sob, holding his hand to his chest, crying silently. After a moment, he pulled his hand back, and stared down at it. It was  _ entirely _ skinned, palm and pads of fingers bright red with wet muscle and blood. He swallowed down the bile that threatened to escape his throat, sitting up. His pants were already stained with crimson, and he swore. It took him a moment to get back on his feet, leaning against a tree. He continued to stand there, hissing and trying to get his breath back under control, until he heard a branch snap behind him.

He didn’t even give himself time to ask what it was. All he knew was that he needed to  _ run _ . And he did. Dashing forward, long and quick strides eating up land in front of him. His lungs pumped near perfectly, and he was distantly pleased to note how he moved. Like he used to. He kept going forward, ignoring how much his thigh hurt, how his hand ached, even that he was leaving a small line of blood.

He kept going. Even after there was no noise behind him. Even after he’d gone far enough that he was pretty sure he was technically out of Vesuvian lines. Even after the sun started to go down on the horizon. He kept running, until his lungs and legs literally gave out, and he collapsed on the edge of the forest. In front of him was a long field of wheat. A lot of wheat. Like, holy fuck, a lot of wheat. He scowled at it, shading his eyes from the sun so he could see. “Who the fuck needs that much wheat?” He asked no one.  _ Vesuvia _ , he admitted to himself. Probably was from Nopal (where they really that close?) and this was just their main export. Though, given how much didn’t look new around here, he highly doubted anyone actually  _ used _ these wheat fields.  _ Probably abandoned. _

He stood up slowly, wounded leg shaking terribly and threatening to collapse under him. He kept going, ducking under the fence, and going and going until he couldn’t any more. He collapsed, no further than a few yards from the fence, exhausted. He flopped onto his back and looked up at the darkening sky. It was honestly beautiful. He put his hands on his belly, feeling himself fall back into that distant space inside himself. It was comforting, like the most comfortable blanket on the most comfortable bed after a long day of work.

A cloud drifted lazily overhead.

He watched it silently, bleeding over the wheat field and contemplating his own life over and over in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He do be runnin', tho


	16. Wheat Fields and Medical Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation and then a return home.

Julian had been ready to give up after a few moments. It seemed like Lucio had entirely lost him. He was so certain that he probably just turned to return to the Palace once he was out of sight before a white blur nearly knocked him off his feet. He yelped, barely managing to catch himself on a nearby tree. He glared at whatever darted by, the leaves of the bushes the only thing that told him something went through it. He almost came out of his skin when he felt something press up against his legs. He looked down, fully expecting something feral and cruel, but found Melchior instead. Maybe not as tame or kind as a normal dog, but certainly not feral and cruel. He let out a sigh, bending down to pet the dog’s head.

He about hit the dog when Melchior suddenly seemed to lash out, snagging his sleeve and dragging him down off a small ledge. “What the  _ fuck _ , Melchior,” he snapped, trying to pull away from the dog while also not tearing his jacket. “I’m not going  _ down there _ !” He and the dog had a tug of war for a long minute before Melchior won and dragged him down into the gulch. He swore at the white beast, complaining about him being “scum of the fucking earth” as he went. He stopped bitching when he noticed the shmear of blood against the tree trunk first.

It seemed Melchior noticed that he noticed because he let him go, glaring at him. He whined loudly, tapping his feet on the harsh criss-cross of roots. Julian frowned, kneeling down and looking. It was… a lot of blood, he realized with a dawning horror. Too much to just be someone skinning their hand or something. The comment Muriel had made about his leg came screaming to the front of his mind, enough that he had to press the heel of his palm against his temple. “... His thigh,” he muttered. “Th-this must be the injury from when he stabbed his thigh…!”

Melchior gruffed at him, shoving his nose into Julian’s face. The red-head wanted to get angry, but he knew what the dog was trying to do. Lead him  _ towards _ Lucio. He took in a deep breath before nodding. “Go. Lead the way.” The dog nodded before taking off, not waiting for Julian as he darted ahead. Julian followed, letting his long strides eat up the ground before him.

It was nearing midnight when he found both dogs stopped. They’d been running for hours, and when they stopped, he nearly fell over them, only barely managing to stop by his literal  _ toes _ . He wanted to snap at them, ask them why they’d stopped so abruptly, until he noted that the wheat was split oddly. As if… someone had just walked through it not too long before.

He swallowed heavily, and stepped around them. The dogs didn’t move, instead sitting down at nearly the exact same time and staring towards the opening. Julian didn’t need dog smell to smell the iron coming from deeper inside. And there was still bright red staining some of the wheat at thigh height. Julian frowned at it, gently dragging his hands through it as he walked by, not even flinching at the red staining his fingers now. He followed it further and further in until he found what he was looking for.

Lucio just laid on the ground, looking distant, hands on his stomach. He was still breathing and blinking, which was good, but he looked exhausted. Like he wanted to fall asleep but was haunted by his memories.

A look Julian knew all too well.

He walked slowly to Lucio’s side, taking care of where Lucio lay. Mostly not to scare him, but also so he didn’t step on him. Two hundred pounds of six foot four man stepping on a foot wasn’t comfortable. He’d know. Because Pasha would always yell at him when they were younger. He knelt down beside him, keeping silent and watching him breathe for a long moment. It was quiet, and admittedly, beautiful. He took in a few intakes of air, about to speak, before deciding against it and letting it out. This continued on for a while until Lucio finally spoke up. “You can just leave, yanno.”

Julian sighed before letting himself fall back into a sit, groaning. He relaxed like that for a little bit, legs sort of splayed and arms over them, leaning against a bent knee, before tilting his head at Lucio. “Why did you run?” He asked softly. “I’m not exactly  _ mad _ , I’m more upset and confused.”

Lucio shrugged as best he could, wincing as it tugged on something. Julian’s face scrunched up into a frown as he inspected. He didn’t understand why, until he noted that Lucio’s metal arm seemed… duller. The magic in it. He remembered how it’d powered down when he’d removed his arm, so it wasn’t hard for him to guess that it probably got knocked loose during Lucio’s run. Probably when he fell, if the blood he spotted on his stomach was anything to go off of. They remained like that for a long while, silent and calm, until Julian sighed again and shuffled. He laid down beside Lucio, close enough that if the man wanted to touch him, he could. He looked at him, face soft and open. “Lucio…”

“I dunno, I was afraid!” He admitted angrily, throwing his hands up. “I was afraid that you’d get mad again…” He paused and swallowed, looking away into the wheat and messing with his hands. “After… what happened the other night.” He looked back up at the sky, squinting into the dying light. “I… felt bad. Very bad. Terribly bad. Like…” He brought his thigh up and gently held it, wincing and hissing as he did so. Julian reached over and gently pressed his hand on it, making sure to not touch the wound from where he presumed it was. “... stabbing yourself bad?” He asked softly.

Lucio nodded, swallowing heavily and letting his thigh drop. “Yea… stabbin’ myself bad…” He sighed in relief as he did, looking back up at the sky. “... it hurts,” he mumbled, trembling. “It hurts a lot… I think I reopened it.”

“I think you did.” They remained silent like that for a while before Julian rolled onto his side and sat up a little, looking Lucio in the eyes as best he could. “ _ Why _ , Lucio? Why do you run?” Not did.  _ Do _ . Past, present, future. Always running.

Lucio swallowed heavily and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t… He swallowed again, voice shaking as he spoke again. “I don’t know… I’m always so afraid… that somethin’s gonna go wrong… and when I try to fix it, no one’s going to allow me to…” He looked off into the wheat, eyes soft and distant and looking like he was about to cry. Julian raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, “no one’s going to allow you to fix it”?” He gently grabbed Lucio’s shoulder, letting his fingers brush across his shoulder, up his neck, and against his jaw, hooking on the opposite side and encouraging him to look at him. “Everyone’s trying to help you…”

Lucio snarled and turned to him quickly, eyes ablaze with rage now. “What, like Asra?” He snapped, bitterness seeping through his tone. He sat up too quickly, jostling his leg, swearing and hissing at the pain. “No… that bastard will keep any and all info making me look even  _ vaguely redeemable. _ ” He scowled at the ground, non-injured leg bent so he could rest his chin on his knee. “... maybe they’re right… maybe I  _ am _ unredeemable… and I’m just putting up a farce… one good enough even  _ I _ can’t tell.” He sniffled softly, ignoring the pain he felt in his leg and instead focusing on the one in his chest.

Julian sat up and gently rubbed across his shoulders. “Hey hey hey, no, shh,” he shushed, scooting a tad closer and dragging Lucio in for a hug, mindful of his leg. “You  _ are _ redeemable, the fact that you’re trying to do so much to prove that you’re better is proof of it.” He nodded back towards the way they came. “Muriel can even stand to be  _ around you _ now. That isn’t nothing. And you two seem to be decent friends.” Lucio nodded sadly, not leaning into him. “I mean, Nadia’s still letting you live in the Palace instead of banishing you. Portia likes you.  _ I _ like you.” He brushed the stray hairs away from Lucio’s face and behind his ear gently, kissing his temple. “That isn’t nothing, Lucio… Asra’s just being bitter, that’s all.”

“... but so should Muriel,” he pointed out softly. “And Nadia just  _ barely _ stands me… Aisha and Salim fuckin’ hate me… I dunno  _ how _ my  _ mother _ feels about me.” He waved a dismissive hand at the air, sneering. “Not since she fucked off back down to the South.” He glared ahead and sighed heavily, watching the wheat gently bob in the breeze. Julian bobbed his head, unsure what to say other than, “No, you’re entirely right.”

Lucio went still for a moment. He almost looked like a statue, and Julian felt fear that maybe he’d fucked up, until Lucio let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “Dude, what the fuck?” He snorted, holding a hand over his mouth as he laughed. “You… you’re kinda shit at this whole “bedside manners” thing.” He tipped his head back from laughter, eyes closed from the force of it. And Julian… felt at peace. He felt himself watching Lucio with a sappy smile and soft eyes, letting out a small chuckle himself. It felt  _ good _ to hear Lucio laughing, even if it was in surprise and not because Julian did something  _ actually _ funny. But he’d take it.

He’d take whatever he could get.

After a beat, Lucio stopped and held his head, spreading blood over his face and hair. “Whoo… dizzy…” He laid back down and sighed, leg still bent. Julian remained sitting up, watching him silently. After a bit, Lucio looked back at him, instead of the dark sky. “... Hey Julian?”

“Yea?”

“Do you…?” Lucio paused, frowning before looking back up at the sky. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.” Julian scoffed and glared at him, though it lacked the same intensity and fire as before. “No such thing. What’s wrong.” Lucio didn’t stop looking up at the sky as he took in and let out a deep breath. “... do you think… I’m at least  _ becoming _ a good person? Or at least one who’s owned up and owed up to his past?”

Julian didn’t even pause as he answered. “Yes, I do.” He chuckled and looked out at the wheat, where he could just  _ barely _ see over it, looking over the sea of it, split only by old, worn out picket fences. “I really do… I couldn’t believe it even a few months ago, and yet here you are… seeing forgiveness and absolution from your past sins by making  _ up for them _ .” He frowned, eyes going a bit distant as he thought. “... and neither us nor you can be sure what  _ you _ did. Because of the Devil.”

Lucio shuddered full bodily at that. “God, don’t remind me,” he mumbled, flinging his metal arm over his eyes. “I don’t  _ ever _ wanna be reminded of that…” Julian turned to him after a beat, face still frowning, but in a curious way. “What did it feel like? Whenever he took over?”

Lucio paused for a second before sighing and sinking more into the earth, obviously thinking. After a long while, he adjusted on the dirt and answered. “It depends… or depended? As I’ve not had a possession in a  _ while _ ,” he gave him a sheepish smile, “heh, knock on wood. Anyways,” he looked back up at the sky, “it would honestly depend. If he was angry, then yea, it’d be red hot and fiery and sting like all the fires in hell. And would be a harsh lurch back, too. I usually don’t remember those events, which is why I think most of my military campaign I  _ don’t _ remember.

“The other was like bein’ dunked into an ice bath.” He shuddered at the memory, as if he’d just been dunked in once again. “Or, being  _ dragged in _ , I guess I should say. This was more often during my first few years of being Count, when  _ outside _ of the war. Usually with more,” he did air quotes with a sneer, “”domestic” problems.” He dropped his hands with a sigh and closed his eyes. “I usually remember these better, but I always felt far away and distant… like I was looking at it all through a tunnel or lens…” He shrugged and looked back up at the sky. “So yea… that’s what it was like with the Devil.”

Julian made a small noise of… not understanding, but of having understood what was said. He looked over the wheat once more, thinking before it clicked. “So wait… you may not remember sending Muriel away.” Lucio shook his head and scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping his throat. “You kiddin’ me? I didn’t know what happened to that squirt until I learned he was at the Coliseum. I originally went to see what I could do, maybe buy him back and then free him, but I guess the Devil took over and used me.” He shuddered as he remembered. “He  _ reveled _ in the chaos of the arena. I never understood not fightin’ yourself.” His eyes lidded and he looked dazed. “Never understood not fightin’ yourself…” He shook his head. “And since I already  _ know _ this is going to be asked, yes, I sent Aisha and Salim down to the dungeons. However, I never threatened them with death. That was all the Devil.” He shuddered before rolling over onto his side, away from Julian. “Look, it’s all done and said now. I can’t do anything but sit here and try to make it better…” He closed his eyes and groaned. “God, why is everything spinning…?”

Julian frowned and leaned over him, thankful he didn’t have his gloves on right then as he pressed a hand to Lucio’s forehead. His frown only worsened as he noted that his skin was starting to become clammy. “Alright, c’mon… lets get you back to the Palace.” He stood up, adjusting Lucio’s leg so it was bent so he could pick him up in a bridal carry.

Lucio hissed at being picked up, mainly when it moved his wounded leg, but didn’t fight all that much. He looked tired again, looking up at Julian with bleary, barely awake eyes. “Jules…?” He made a noncommittal hum. “Can I sleep?” Julian took in a deep breath, debating, but did not. “Yes. You can sleep.” Lucio didn’t even wait until they were out of the wheat field before passing out in his arms.

Julian forced himself to not panic as he walked on, not even entirely seeing. All he knew was that suddenly, the dogs were coming  _ at him _ , barking and howling. He stopped and squinted at where he heard them coming from before realizing there was the sound of large hooves galloping towards them at full speed too. He still squinted over the horizon until he finally  _ spotted _ the horse. Huge and massive. Irish Cob, if he had to predict, which meant only one thing. Nadia.

Lo and behold, the Countess came over the hill, face pinched into a stern expression, which meant she was worried and on the verge of a panic attack. Still, it brought a soft, thankful smile to Julian’s face. “You’ve got Lucio?” She demanded, jumping down from the horses back and stomping over. “Has he hurt anyone? Is everyone alright?” Julian flinched at her tone and words. No actual  _ care _ for Lucio. Just expecting him to have hurt someone else, though, with his track record, it matched up. She looked Julian over, glaring at him. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Nadia, I’m fine,” he assured before gently gesturing to Lucio. “It’s  _ him _ I’m worried about.” Nadia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What do you mean, it’s  _ him _ \- oh.” She seemed to  _ finally _ notice the blood dripping from her ex-husband. She lifted his flesh hand, sneering at the skinned flesh. “He needs medical help,” she said flatly, dropping the hand and letting it hang. Julian glared at her, lip twitching. “Yea, no shit,” he snapped, walking over to the horse. “Let’s go home. He needs rest.”

Nadia’s expression softened, and she followed. “Here,” she reached up to hop onto the horse. “Let me.” She got up and reached for Lucio. Julian looked between her hands and him before eventually sighing and giving him up. Nadia held onto him, keeping the horse steady as Julian hopped up behind her. After a bit of finessing, Julian had Lucio once again. Nadia spun the horse around and sent it into a gallop back to the Palace, the dogs quick on her heels.

It was a long and quiet ride home.

Julian hurt when they finally arrived, carefully swinging a leg over to drop off the horse and not jostle Lucio that much. He landed with a huff, looking up at Nadia worriedly. “Do we have a room we don’t mind getting bloody?” He asked as he watched her drop the horse herself. A servant came and took the reins from her hand and scuttled away with the horse. Nadia huffed a breath out through her nose and crossed her arms. “His room.” Julian bristled and glared at her, not so subtly seething. Nadia visibly recoiled from his reaction, grimacing. She looked away, down the hall, and swallowed heavily. “... we can find a room. Just give us a moment.” She walked away, a little stiffer than normal.

Julian watched her until she disappeared down another hall or corridor before shaking his head and muttering, “fuck this,” under his breath. He picked a hall and marched down at it, face firm and with an underpinning of rage. Any servant or guest unlucky enough to see him fled. He wasn’t sure why for a while, until he realized he didn’t have his patch. With his eye… He looked down, at where the wall and floor met for a beat, before looking forward again. He probably looked like an omen of death, especially with a bleeding Lucio in his arms. He marched through some major corridors, ignoring that Lucio was still dripping blood and growing paler with each passing second.

He kicked open a door into the gardens, passing through them quietly. There were a couple of yelps as people spotted him and rushed away, but otherwise, no one bothered them. He passed through the gardens and finally reached Pasha’s, noting that the lights were on. Good. He wouldn’t have to take care of Lucio alone. Or, so he thought.

He shouldered the door open, calling her name at the same time. It was only a second later that he realized that Portia wasn’t alone. Inside, sitting there and having tea and laughing with her, was Asra. The two stopped, just as Julian stood still, taking in the scene. It honestly looked lovely, but he also knew what it meant. Back to his place in the city. “Is that Lucio?” Portia asked, voice high and petrified. He ignored her, turning sharply on his heel and walking out and down the steps again. Portia yelped and darted for him, snagging his arm and tugging on it. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you!” She admitted, looking panicked.

Julian shook his head, scowling at her. “No. Don’t worry about it, it’s fine, I got this.” He shrugged her off, already heading back towards town from her cottage. He didn’t see her reach out a weak hand to him, nor did he hear the soft, “Ilya…” she whispered. He didn’t see Asra come out of the cottage, glaring daggers into his back as he took her shoulders and lead her inside, whispering about Julian being stupid and probably until Lucio’s control, or how Lucio had manipulated him masterfully. All he knew was that he had to get back to his clinic, and get Lucio set up.

It took a while to get back to his clinic, but once he did, he walked straight upstairs and into one of the yet-to-be-used long stay rooms, picking the one closest to his to set Lucio in. He didn’t like undressing patients when they were asleep, but this was different. He had no option, this time. So, he removed Lucio’s jacket and threw it into the garbage. The same with his pants, hissing as he finally saw the wound. It was deep and ugly, yet surprisingly not infected. He wasn’t sure  _ how _ , to be honest. Unless Lucio bound it right after the injury, which, now that he was able to look at all the other wounds on him, seemed about right. Still, it ached to see all of his wounds, as it was clear to tell what was from others and… self inflicted.

He gently held up his hand, ignoring the “cat scratches” from the other night, and focusing on his hand. The entire thing was skinned, looking painful and horrible. He hissed in sympathy, setting it down, palm up, at Lucio’s side. He left only to grab medical supplies. Stitches and disinfectants. He was happy that Nazali had stopped by to show him what other continents were doing. He was probably the best doctor in Vesuvia, if not this continent, at the moment. He brought over a small, rolling table with him, setting the supplies on there before getting the work.

It was long, painful work, more annoying than anything, especially when he gently pulled the thigh wound apart to see the damage. He grimaced when he spotted that it went down to bone, thankful that Nazali had also brought over a thing called a “face mask”, so whatever spittle would’ve escaped from his mouth at the hiss he did at  _ that _ didn’t get inside. He pulled on a disposable glove, pressing his fingers inside the wound. He made sure there was no infection before reading a sewing needle. It was fairly easy to do it with the right kind of stitches and so on, comforting, too.

Eventually, he fell into a rhythm with it, almost mourning when he was done. Still, it now had a series of clean stitches. There were probably too many stitches, but it was his first time without Nazali, and it looked stable enough. Satisfied, he turned to his hand, gently picking it up. In all honesty… there was probably nothing more he could do than pick out any bark and gravel that was there, put some antibiotic on it, cover it, and go about his merry way. He still scowled at it, snagging a pair of tweezers and setting to work. He was surprised how much was lodged up in there, not making a full mental note of it as he did.

Eventually, when it all had been done, he set the tweezers into a tray of “to be sterilized” and leaned back with a sigh. Honestly, his work looked decent. Not as impeccable as he’d liked, but it at least wasn’t the hack surgery he’d been doing for years. He watched Lucio sleep, feeling drained of everything, especially emotion.

He felt distant. Like he was out of his body. He supposed he was dissociating, from all that had happened. The moonlight filtering through the window made Lucio look paler than he was, and it was only then that Julian realized he’d never turned on a light. He’d worked in the near pitch black in a panic. He looked out the window, squinting at the dust motes that floated haplessly through the air. A small thought grew in his head. Of how this must be how Lucio feels. Alone. Distant. It would make sense that he’d put on a bravado to fool everyone, including himself, to how he was  _ actually _ feeling. And he couldn’t say as he blamed him…

If, going off what he knew was true, Lucio was just another victim in a  _ long line _ of a generational abuse. He’d even heard rumors that Lucio had been thrown into a river as a child, and held under by his mother. Before, he would’ve just laughed and waved it off, something the Count made up to gain sympathy. But now… He let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. Now he could totally see that entirely happening. With how Morga was. With how Lucio was. It wouldn’t surprise him if Morga did to try and “cleanse” him of magic at an early age, especially if Lucio was naturally gifted and talented. He lowered his hands to look at Lucio. “... what would you’ve been like if you hadn’t been left to waste,” he whispered, leaning out to brush a lock of matted blonde hair aside. “What sort of powerful magician would you be…?” He knew the questions were useless, though. He stayed there for a bit longer before standing up and going to clean himself and his clinic up.

It was going to be a  _ long _ day tomorrow.


	17. Long Weeks and even Longer Weekeneds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio wakes up, and Julian's there once again.

Julian had been working his ass off that weekend. Or, well. End of the week into the weekend. He’d brought Lucio in on Thursday, and it was now nearing the end of Sunday. The man hadn’t woken up, body too exhausted to do anything but sleep. And he was grateful for it. He didn’t want to have to deal with Lucio’s bitching over him being stuck in bed. And even then, he probably wouldn’t sleep a whole week. Julian fussed over a small baby that’d come in with a cough, diagnosing it with a simple common cold and giving his mother the meds he’d need to take. His mother hadn’t been sure how to give it to him, so he was currently showing her how. Finally, the kid took his meds and fell asleep. He handed the baby back, smiling softly, tiredly, at the mother. She thanked him before rushing out.

Julian waited until the door closed before he sighed heavily. He was exhausted, and his footsteps clearly showed that. As he trudged up the steps, and to Lucio’s room to check on him. He groaned, leaning heavily against the wall. “Why do these days seem to get worse and worse,” he muttered to himself. “I’m so tired of babies…” He still had the smell of vomit on him from one earlier in the day, and it made himself sick. He took in deep breaths, trying to collect himself. That quiet, his moment to collect himself, was gone when he heard a deep groan, followed by a pathetic, “Jules…?”

He groaned to himself, feeling himself on the verge of crying, even as he stood up straight, removed the eyepatch, and walked in. “Yea?”

There Lucio sat, looking confused and a little sick. Pale and a little green. He looked up at Julian with wide, terrified eyes. “... Where am I?” He reached for him, hissing as his hand ached. He pulled it back and looked at his palm, horrified. “What… what  _ happened? _ ” He asked, voice high and reedy and breaking. “W-why am I  _ here? _ ” He looked behind him, out the window with the setting sun turning the buildings outside cold. “Th-this isn’t the d-dungeons…” He held himself, starting to cry as he looked back to Julian. “... is it?”   
Julian shook his head and rushed forward, shushing him. “No, no, this is not the dungeons,” he assured, petting Lucio’s hair and gently grabbing his injured hand. “This is my clinic. In Central City. I brought you here after you collapsed.” He held Lucio’s injured hand still, gently rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. “Are you… are you feeling alright?” The hand in Lucio’s hair fell to his cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheekbones. Lucio hummed and closed his eyes, nuzzling against his hand, a tear dripping down from his eye and against it. Julian brushed the tear away gently, feeling his breath catch.

Lucio paused for a long moment, before shaking his head. “No… I don’t feel alright,” he admitted softly. His face looked pained as he continued, making Julian wonder if his lungs were still weak after his previous bout of Plague. “I feel… weak. Like I’ve been punched down and then kicked at from all sides… Emotionally, mentally,  _ physically… _ It all feels like shit.” He sighed heavily before leaning all his weight onto Julian. The red-head yelped as he rushed upwards from the kneeling position he’d been in, cradling the top half of his body to him, head pressed against his sternum. “I’m just… so fuckin’ tired.”

“I know you are,” he soothed, kissing the top of his head and brushing away loose strands. “I am too… Do you want to take a bath? I’ll have to put something around the stitches on your leg so they don’t get wet.” His offer was soft, even as he pressed more kisses to the top of his head. He was honestly surprised when he felt Lucio barely nod. “Yea… yea, I’d like that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily against Julian. “The blood’s… making me itchy.” Julian couldn’t help but laugh at that, even as he pulled back a hair to hold a hand out to Lucio. “Come on, then, let’s get rid of the itchy blood.”

Lucio gave him a sneering smile, clearly joking as he shook his head, taking his hand. “Are you making fun of me, Jules?” He teased, allowing himself to be yanked up. Julian laughed more, tugging him up before hugging him. “When  _ don’t _ I make fun of you?” He teased, holding him close and breathing him in. Lucio gave a little chuckle at that before his smile fell and he seemed to pull himself back. At least, mentally. “When you yell at me,” he admitted, sounding like he wasn’t all there. Julian frowned and pulled back a hair, cupping Lucio’s jaw and tilting his head back and up. Lucio grunted, but allowed it, eyes lidded and shining with unshed tears. Julian’s face fell, becoming endlessly soft as he realized what this was. “I’ll work on it,” he promised softly, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

Lucio was silent for a beat before opening his and looking up at Julian pleadingly. “Promise?” He asked,  _ begged _ , voice cracking. Julian opened his and let out a deep breath. They searched each others eyes before Julian nodded. “Promise,” he murmured, kissing him softly for a beat. That beat felt like a year, only broken when Lucio adjusted and hissed in pain, flinching back to glare his leg. “Damn thigh,” he grumbled, hopping a little to lean against Julian more firmly. “How long will this take to heal?”

Julian chuckled and shrugged, hooking his arms under Lucio’s chest and legs, raising him up. “For stitches? About two weeks, maybe a little under. For the injury itself in full? Around ten days.” He was a little worried at how light Lucio was, but put that worry out of his mind for a moment, kissing him softly again. “Alright, off to the bath.”

He was thankful he’d picked the one closest to his bedroom, as it meant that there was a bath directly connected to it. He kicked the door open, grunting as he nearly fell backwards. The only reason he didn’t was Lucio’s metal arm flinging itself out to grip the doorframe and dragging him upright. He gave an appreciative grunt to Lucio, righting himself and walking more inside. He sat Lucio down on the toilet and turned on the tap, sighing heavily. The bandages he’d needed were under the sink, and he yanked them out. They were odd, he’d admit. They had a strange cover over them and appeared to be sticky on one side. He would presume an adhesive of some kind. He returned to Lucio, putting the bandage over his stitches carefully. Once he was content, he removed his jacket and shirt and gloves, throwing them into a nearby basket. He’d have them all cleaned tomorrow. He leaned against the counter, working on removing his boots.

Lucio looked distantly at the wall, deep in his head. Julian noticed this after finally releasing the lacings on his boots. He leaned over and genty smacked Lucio’s arm, giving him a worried look. “You alright?” Lucio jumped at the smack, but shrugged at the question. “I’m… not sure…” He gave a bitter chuckle, bringing both feet onto the seat with him and wrapping his arms around his legs. He leaned his cheek on his knees, looking up at Julian with a dark humor. “Last time we were in a bathroom together, you were yelling at me, then I was vomiting, and then I kicked you out.”

Julian gave an equally sardonic chuckle as he removed his boot and threw it out of the room, starting to work on the other one. “Yea… no, you’re right.” They remained silent as Julian finished the second boot and threw it to join its twin. He sighed and turned to Lucio, looking him up and down. “Do you think you can get into the tub yourself, or do you need help?” Lucio huffed, letting his legs fall back to the floor before looking at the tub with a hum. “I  _ should _ be able to get in,” he mused, standing up shakily.

He let out a yelp as he put pressure on his leg, catching himself on the wall. Julian made a move to help him, but he waved it off. “I’m fine!” He barked, gulping down air. “I’m fine…” He turned to the tub, slowly, carefully. He was cautious as he clambered into the tub, lifting one leg, then the other, over the sides of the tub and slowly sitting down. It was long and oval and made of porcelain. He made a small noise of surprise as he dragged a human fingernail over it. “How much did this cost?”

Julian blew air out of his nose as he walked over to the tap and stopped it, thinking. After a beat, he shrugged and got onto his knees beside the tub shaking his head. “Fuck if I know… you technically paid for it.”

Lucio raised an eyebrow, about to be upset and confused, until it clicked. “Oh. Right, when I refurbished your clinics a few months ago.” Julian nodded, grabbing a sponge and getting it wet. “Yup. Correct. A great addition, I must add.” He sighed as he lathered up the sponge, starting to work on Lucio’s back. The ex-Count moaned and leaned forward, giving him some room to work. “It keeps the blood inside and it’s easier to clean.” It was satisfying to see whatever grit and grime remained on him leaving, turning the water a light brown and his skin going back to a pale shade. He kept scrubbing, making sure to keep his touches light, and eventually moved to Lucio’s chest, holding still as the man squirmed. He hummed as he spotted some of the blood stains, gently pulling it away. Running his hand gently over the spot, he watched his hand for a moment. It was directly over his sternum, and he stopped rubbing at the stain after a beat. He leaned forward and gently kissed it, lingering on it for a long second.

The moment finally ended when Julian looked up, into the slightly startled but seemingly willing eyes of Lucio. “... Good?” He asked softly, keeping himself slightly lower than the injured man. Lucio swallowed and nodded, taking in shallow breaths, as if afraid to break the spell over them just as much as Julian was loath to. Lucio nodded, keeping them both at a distance before sighing. “Julian…” He shook his head and leaned back against the tub and tiles, rubbing his temples. “I’m tired… Can we do the flirting later? Please?”

Julian frowned, but nodded. “Okay. Focus on the bath?” He asked gently, holding his hand out for Lucio’s other arm. The blond considered him for a moment before nodding and shifting in the tub so Julian could check his arm. “And I’ll… show you how to remove the metal one,” he mumbled, looking rather sadly down at it. “It probably needs to go back in for repairs… I probably did a number on it…” He lifted his left shoulder, the arm barely moving with it. Julian’s frown deepened. “... But, all you did is fall,” he said softly, voice coated in confusion. “How could a simple fall mess it up that bad?”

Lucio looked like he was about to get pissed, but suddenly backed off at the last second. As if all the energy he had to get mad was suddenly gone. And he was just… sad. And tired once again. Julian felt himself nearly pout at the look, even as Lucio shrugged and turned his head away. “It’s whatever… I’ve been…  _ debating _ if I’ve even  _ earned _ this arm in the first place,” he admitted softly, voice dropping more and more as he spoke. “I mean… I’m kinda a-”

“Don’t say it,” Julian snapped suddenly, raising a finger. “Do not…  _ fucking _ . Say what I  _ know _ you’re about to say.” Lucio looked surprised, even going so far as to open his mouth to argue, before it snapped shut. Instead, the energy in his eyes died again, and he simply nodded. “Yea… of course. I’ll… I’ll shut up now,” he mumbled before going quiet. Julian wasn’t sure if he wanted to say a stressed out  _ thank you! _ , or a worried,  _ no no _ . Instead, he settled on silence as he cleaned Lucio off as best he could.

After a few moments of working Lucio to a decent amount of clean, he sighed before leaning forward and kissing his cheek again. “Can you get up, or do you need help?” He asked softly, lingering in the closeness. Lucio turned and pressed their foreheads together, whimpering slightly. “Or do you need me to carry you?” The red-head asked softly, nuzzling against him. Lucio nodded, tears welling up behind his eyelids. “Pl-please,” he managed, voice cracking.

“Okay,” Julian soothed, rubbing his arms. “Okay…” He stood up, adjusting Lucio so he could get to the tap. He turned it off, looking around. He was  _ also _ so endlessly thankful that he’d gotten a towel heater. Another, seemingly  _ useless _ expense that turned out to be useful in a  _ lot _ of ways. He waited until the water went down more to walk over with the warm towel, cocking his head at Lucio. “Alright, ready?”

Lucio indeed, bending his legs up and arching his back. Julian grunted as he slid the towel under him and lifted him up, adjusting a couple of times before finally walking him out to a new bed. Lucio frowned as he was set down in the cot Julian had set up in his bed, looking around. “And I am…?”

“My room,” Julian said bluntly, walking over to a nearby closet and opening it up. He reached up and grabbed a comforter, grunting as it fell on top of him, though he catched it in time. He looked back at Lucio, humming a tune softly as he returned to his side. “Now that you’re up, I want to keep a closer eye on you,” he explained, setting the comforter down onto Lucio. He turned and returned back to the closet, looking for a decent pillow. “Your wounds aren’t…  _ grave _ , per say, but I also know you.” He sneered as he finally found a pillow and returned to Lucio. “You’ll go, running and jumping around, before your leg even heals. You’ve  _ done so _ already. Why should I believe otherwise?” He didn’t mean to come off as scolding as he did, handing Lucio the pillow. The blond took it quietly, silent. Painfully so. Julian sighed as he knelt down. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just… frustrated and tired and taking it out on you and I shouldn’t be and I’m sorry.”

“‘s’okay.”

“It’s not though,” he corrected sharply, stormy eyes glinting in the barely hanging on light. He almost couldn’t bear to take in the soft, scared look Lucio had on his face. “It’s not… even ignoring the professional piece and  _ being your doctor _ , as your friend… partner…” He frowned at the floor, thinking for a second before shaking his head. “ _ Whatever we are _ ,” he returned to Lucio, face soft, “I should be more sympathetic to you.”

Lucio clearly didn’t expect that, eyes searching his face before nodding. “I… understand,” he mumbled, holding the pillow close to his chest. Like a doll. He remained still, twisting back and forth slightly before turning more. “There’s a clasp. On my arm. It almost looks like an odd wire.” He moved his arm, inside facing up, showing Julian what did look like an out of place wire, or even a small, out of place metal part. “Pull it. It’ll disengage the arm.” Julian did just that, catching the arm before it fell to the floor or hit Lucio. He pulled it away slowly, carefully, still impressed it’s build. Honestly, it did look out of shape. How it managed  _ years _ without constant repair was beyond him…

A part of him worried if maybe Aisha and Salim weren’t  _ purposefully _ messing with the arm. Making it worse than before. He  _ hoped _ they wouldn’t do that, but he also couldn’t put it past them.

Still, it was beautiful. He walked it over to a dresser and set it down carefully, suddenly struck with how… eerie, it was. Almost lifelike, yet not. What did Nazali call it one time?  _ Uncanny valley? _ This certainly fits the bill. He shuddered as he walked back towards Lucio, worried about the man. He’d yet to move from his sitting position, still hugging the pillow, still looking distantly into the blanket. He squatted down beside him, looking at him softly. “Hey…”

“Hey,” Lucio returned just as softly, eyes flicking over to him. “Julian? May I… ask you a possibly stupid question?” Julian nodded, sitting down on the floor. “Sure. Go right on ahead.”

“Can I…” He paused, clearly unsure and embarrassed before swallowing down his fear. “Can I… sleep with you tonight? Just in the same bed.” He hugged the pillow closer, looking terrified. “I don’t think… I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep well without you there,” he admitted, voice shaking like a leaf in the storm. Julian wanted to say no, that he could roll over onto his leg and cause damage, but… He sighed heavily, standing up and getting a thinner pillow. He then went and rummaged around a small medicine cabinet he kept in his room, just for patients like this. He found some bandage tape and walked back to Lucio. “Let me see your leg?”

Lucio gave it up, eyes clearly confused. “What’re you going to do?”

“Well,” Julian grunted, starting to slowly peel the cover off. “I’m removing this thing, for one.” Lucio flinched at it, but didn’t try to move away. He stayed still, hissing as the adhesive was removed. After a moment, it was off, and Julian threw it away. He wrapped the pillow around his leg, and then wrapped the pillow in the tape. “There.” With that, he set the tape down and lifted Lucio up once again. “Now, we won’t have to worry about your leg.”

He set Lucio down in his bed, encouraging him to sleep against the wall. “So you don’t fall out.” Lucio gave a small hum of understanding, shuffling back before waiting for Julian. The red-head stepped away, undoing his pants, shuffling them down before sitting to fully shuck them off. He threw them into the hamper as well before sliding into bed, shivering. “Gods, it’s cold,” he mumbled, clinging to the end of the comforter. Lucio rolled his eyes, grabbing Julian with his flesh hand and dragging him back. “Then come here and get warm. I’m a furnace.” Julian  _ wanted _ to complain, but then Lucio’s hand touched him and oh. No, the man was, indeed,  _ warm. _

He shuffled back until he felt he was an, er…  _ respectable _ distance away. Apparently, Lucio did not care for properness, instead dragging him back further into his hold. He pressed Julian’s back to his chest, their hips against each others, and wrapped his legs around Julian’s as best he could. He hummed happily, kissing the back of his neck. “Good?” He murmured, nuzzling against it. Julian wanted to be embarrassed, but no. Lucio was very warm. And surprisingly comfortable. He sighed happily, nodding. “Mm, very.”

They shuffled around a couple more times until they found a happy medium, still in roughly the same idea. Lucio being a back-pack for Julian, both men falling asleep quickly after.


	18. Inspection Time Down at the Docks Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Lucio are summoned to the Docks by Countess Nadia to figure out how the new bout of Plague started.

Julian woke up to something that was quickly becoming a common sight. Lucio’s head tucked under his head, his lips against his collar bones, snoring softly. Julian chuckled as he hugged Lucio closer, sighing happily. He was content to remain like that, honestly the whole day, if possible. However, that was clearly not in the cards.

There was a knock on the door, making Lucio grumble awake. “W’zz goin’ on…?” He mumbled, sitting up and rubbing sleep out of his eyes, or at least, attempting to. “W’zz tha’...?” Julian shushed him, brushing his hair out of the way and kissing Lucio’s forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a second.” He managed to fall out of bed mostly gracefully, stumbling to the dresser and throwing a pair of pants and a shirt on.

He nearly fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the door as the knocking got faster and seemingly more urgant. When he was at a decent area for them to hear him, he started to grumble about “yea yea, okay, I’m getting there!” He opened the door with more force than he’d been wanting to, but figured it was due to lack of sleep. He brushed some of his hair to the right side and groaned before glaring at whoever was outside the door. Imagine his surprise and how quickly an eyebrow quirked up when he realized it was Asra. He greeted him with his name curtly. The white haired magician glared at him before nodding at the inside. “May I come in?”

“Uh…” Julian blinked, turning back to look around the empty clinic before stepping aside with an unsure, “sure?”

Asra stormed into a waiting room and flopped down onto the couch, practically shoving his bag onto it and honestly just pouting. It was frustrating for Julian. He’d been doing this more and more, even since Lucio’d come back. To where he was pouting more than Lucio was, which was a horrifying thought in and of itself. “I’m here on behalf of Nadia,” Asra finally said, clearly not happy of that fact. “She wants you and…” He paused, face screwing up as he finally spat out, “ _ Lucio _ to come down to the docks and inspect it.” He dug through his bag before finding a small letter, thrusting it out to the taller man.

Julian took it with a confused look, opening it and being greeted with Nadia’s flowing handwriting. “ _ Dearest Doctor Devorak _ ,” it read, “ _ Due to recent  _ _ events plagues problems  _ _ things happening down by the docks that seem related to my ex-husband, I ask that you both come down at once to help us deal with damage control and the possible return of the Plague. Signed, the Countess. _ ”

Admittedly, he flinched at how brutal and short it was, along with the fact that she said “dearest doctor Devorak,” meaning she was pissed, and just “the Countess”, meaning she was absolutely  _ livid _ . He didn’t like the brewing fight he’d have to deal with, especially not between Nadia and Lucio. He remembered just  _ listening _ to one, and it sounded like they damn near came to blows. Lucio had come out of that “meeting” right after, and went straight to his rooms. As far as Julian was aware, he didn’t eat dinner that night and not even breakfast the next day. Now that he thought on it… there were a lot of occasions like that. Where Lucio would just lock himself away and not eat. If this was a pattern... 

He kept his ideas down for the moment. Deal with Asra right then. Speaking of, he was still glaring at Julian as if he’d personally offended him. Julian looked around, seemingly confused, before looking back at him. “Why’re you looking at me like I just punted Fausted across the room?” Asra snorted and rolled his eyes, standing up. “If you punted Faust across a room, I’d be strangling you,” he corrected, stepping closer and shoving his finger into Julian’s face. “ _ You _ are getting cozy with the man who’s ruined. Our.  _ Lives! _ ” He snapped, face somehow becoming red in rage.

Julian took a step back and raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm Asra down. “Asra, calm  _ down _ , why’re you going after me?!” He honestly had half a mind to throw them away from him, mostly because the amount of aggression from them wasn’t… well, it wasn’t exactly justified now, was it? And it was annoying, so very annoying. He knew that Asra didn’t have the…  _ greatest _ track record with Lucio, but if him and Muriel could do more than just  _ tolerate the man _ , why couldn’t Asra, who Lucio’d apologized to more than even Muriel, at least get over what the man did? He didn’t voice any of this, though. He knew better.

Asra’s finger didn’t move as he leaned in, seething. “He tried to kill  _ you…! _ ” He spat, eyes narrowing into slits. “Why don’t you absolutely  _ hate him? _ ” Julian went still before scowling and swatting Asra’s hands away. The whited haired magician looked surprised as Julian casually reminded him how much taller he was. He rose to his full height and glared down at Asra, crossing his arms and cocking his head. “You don’t get to  _ decide _ how I  _ feel _ , Asra,” he snapped, rage dripping from every word and angle. “You already tried to do that,  _ remember. _ ”

He was always reminded of the few months they shared together. Asra said that it was his biggest regret, which hurt. A lot. Mostly because that was _ all _ that was said about Julian. How he was a mistake, at least in long term relationships. It’s why he ran from them as easily and as quickly as he did. Not because he wanted to put everyone else’s issues on his shoulders (okay, in  _ part _ that was why), or because he didn’t want to burden anyone with his own (though that was also another big reason why), but because the last times he did, it ended up like what had happened with Asra. People taking advantage of his hopes and dreams and honest loyalty to suit their needs. Now, did Asra do it on purpose? No. Gods no. He didn’t think Asra had it in him. But did he believe that Asra actually  _ cared _ about how Julian felt during that time? No, he didn’t. Otherwise, the magician wouldn’t still call their relationship his biggest blunder.

Asra fumbled, slowly stuttering back as he tried to recover. But in the end, he couldn’t, dropping his hands and looking sharply away. “I…” He tried to start another sentence a few more times before shaking his head, starting to cry. He picked up his bag and fled, with a thin, “I should go.” He shouldered past Julian, rushing through the clinic to race out the door. Julian didn’t even move, annoyed at everything. The letter, the yelling, Asra trying to decide how he should feel… It felt like three years ago, nearly four now that he thought on it. Nearly four years ago, that “relationship” happened, and Asra  _ still _ couldn’t let it go.

Instead, he waited until the door slammed shut behind the magician before he finally moved, groaning and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell,” he muttered, turning around on his heel to storm back upstairs.

When he reentered his room, he wasn’t expecting to see Lucio sitting up and waiting for him, tense and worried. The blond had been picking at something on his comforter, stopping when he realized Julian’s footsteps had stopped right outside the door. He looked up and chuckled nervously, shoving both of his hands into his lap. “Hey Jules,” he greeted, just as nervous as his chuckle, before looking away. “So uh… what happened down there?”

Right. The  _ letter _ . Julian snorted and rolled his eyes, walking over to the bed and sitting down heavily, nearly throwing the paper at him. “That was Asra,” he replied, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “delivering a letter and proceeding to try and tell me how I should feel about being around you.” He let out a long and heavy sigh, annoyed. Mostly at the fact that he couldn’t fully tell Lucio what had happened. He was thankful the blond didn’t ask, instead also nearly throwing the paper to the bed, sneering at it in a very Lucio way. It made him comforted to know that there was  _ some _ of the blond he’d hated and loved in equal measure there. “What the fuck was that?”

“Us being told by a livid Nadia to get our asses down to the docks,” he translated, sitting back and sighing again. “I’ll go get you some spare clothes… they’ll fit well enough.” He didn’t wait for Lucio to reply as he got back up and left, searching for some clothes.

Lucio’d watched him go, silent and clinging to the comforter. He remained like that for a few seconds before grabbing and re-reading the letter. Almost obsessively, actually, over and over and over and over again. Until his eyes hurt and Julian came back with some clothes. The red-head frowned at him, setting the clothes on the bed and gently taking the paper, shushing him. “Stop,” he ordered softly. “You’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

“In what way?” Lucio asked, laughing slightly in panic. “You don’t mean a physical way, do you-?”

“No.” Julian crumpled the thing up and threw it in the garbage, watching with a distant satisfaction so deep it almost wasn’t there as it spun around the rim before dropping in. He turned back to Lucio and sighed, scooting closer to him on the bed. “Mentally. You can still self harm mentally.” He raised a hand and gently cupped Lucio’s face. After a minute of that, and just breathing, Julian sighed and closed his eyes, looking defeated and tired. “Come on. Sooner we get this done with, sooner we can return and get back into bed.”

“Yea…”

And so, there they were. Both dressed, though Lucio was considerably dressed down. And dressed entirely differently. Julian couldn’t even  _ remember _ who owned the clothes before Lucio, other than another doctor. One that probably died of the Plague. He shuddered, not wanting to think of the deaths about to happen now that it was returning. It wouldn’t be pretty. He jumped a little as he felt something run into his side, expecting to see something trying to fight him or someone trying to rob him. Instead, it was Lucio, hunched over a little, practically clinging to his side.

Julian felt a stab of pity. The man was practically  _ vibrating _ with anxiety, eyeing everyone around him like they were going to jump him. A few people gave him weird looks, but a sneer from Julian sent them either looking away or full on skittering away. He wrapped an arm around Lucio’s shoulder and picked up their pace, ignoring everyone around them. Lucio didn’t even argue, standing up a bit straight so he could keep pace.

They kept that pace as they approached the docks, until Lucio stopped suddenly, looking around and frowning. “There’s Guards here,” he muttered, platinum eyes picking up the postures of everyone around them. His brain was falling back in mercenary mode, one that, while he didn’t like, it was a useful mindset to return to.

Julian cocked his head, an eyebrow quirking as he looked around. “I don’t see any,” he said, head whipping side to side, looking around them. Lucio shook his head and grabbed Julian’s jaw, dragging him down and pointing to a seemingly random man. “Look at his posture,” he rumbled, voice suddenly (and surprisingly) deep. Enough that it rattled Julian’s chest. “Look at everyone around him. They’re relaxed. But what about tall, dark, and dangerous in the mouth of the alley way?”

Julian squinted at him through the sides of his eyes, about to tell Lucio he was being paranoid, until he gave it a chance. And no, he saw it too. And what’s worse, was that he  _ recognized it _ . “Parade rest,” he breathed, picking it up on it easily now. He was right, the man stood more… organized than everyone around him. He did slouch or hunch, and instead inspected around the crowd as if he were looking for someone.  _ Me or Lucio _ , he distantly realized, even as he ducked down of his own volition and started to drag Lucio to the crowd. He wanted to find Nadia before the guards spotted them. Mainly because he would be afraid of what the guards would do to Lucio, not exactly him.

The crowd was easy enough to slip through, Lucio being surprisingly good at blending in when he didn’t have the arm on display and his makeup minimal. Most didn’t even pay a single ounce of attention to him, even when he barked orders to people to move. They just assumed he was an asshole doctor, which Julian was more than okay with. Actually, with how steady Lucio’s hands were right then, he wondered if he’d be decent in surgery.  _ Another question for another day, _ he scolded himself, weaving through the crowd until they reached where the perimeter was set up.

“Halt!” The guard there snapped, holding up his hand. “Who are you and what’s your reason for being here.” Julian and Lucio stood up to their full heights, Julian sighing in relief. He opened his mouth to speak before Lucio reached into one of the pockets in his jacket and pulled out the crumpled up note, smoothed out as best as it could get. He held it out to the guard, eyes firm and calm. “Julian Devorak and Lucio Morgasson. The Countess requested our presence,” he identified, voice military and distant.

It honestly worried Julian.

Instead of voicing his fears, he looked forward and nodded. The guard inspected the letter for a few moments before sighing heavily and returning it back to the blond. Lucio folded it back up and returned it to the pocket from whence it had come, eyes never leaving the guard the entire time. The guard stepped aside, moving a piece of wood so they could get through. “Go,” he snapped, glaring at Lucio in particular. “And don’t do any funny business.” He waggled a finger in “their” direction, but everyone around them knew better.

What honestly surprised Julian was that no one had flinched away or tried to attack Lucio when he’d identified himself. Most hadn’t even really reacted, just accepted it. It made him  _ really _ want to take him to the Raven now, just to see how much people’s opinion of the former Count had changed. He filed that all away for later, sweeping forward through the gate first, Lucio quick on his heels.

Both men moved quickly, and Lucio was quickly creeped out, clinging to Julian’s side once again. “It’s so dead,” he muttered, clasping one of Julian’s hands for comfort. The red-head nodded, forcing down his panic. “Yea. This is what it was like back when the Plague hit. When it first hit.”

Lucio nodded sagely, seemingly far away yet in the moment. Like he could take in what he was seeing and guess what it looked like in the past. “Those who don’t learn the past are doomed to repeat it, sorta deals?” He asked quietly. “Very much so,” Julian confirmed. Lucio suddenly stopped, surprising Julian who was yanked back but Lucio’s lack of movement. He glared at Lucio, taking a step back to his side. “What’s wrong with you?” He snapped. Lucio merely pointed into an alley, silent and looking paler than usual. Julian followed the line of his arm and then to where he was pointing with a scowl until he realized what Lucio had spotted. And his face fell into horror and shock.

A small girl, barely six, was sitting in the alley, completely limp against a wall. She was sitting up, and looked like a doll. She was clearly bloated with decay, and some flies buzzed around her. She was dressed in a white lace dress, and her skin went from paler than a ghost to the horrifying crimson that signified Plague.

Julian could feel bile raising his throat, and tugged on Lucio’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.” Lucio released him, starting slowly towards the girl before breaking into a run. “Lucio!” Julian shouted after him, but when he realized it was a fruitless endeavor, he groaned, gazed upon the heavens to ask  _ why me _ , before charging after him. Lucio skittered to a stop right in front of the girl, kneeling down to just… see. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her head, half expecting to see a little girl’s face, just… dead.

What he saw, instead, was that her face had been ripped off by  _ something _ , looking like a dog or something, leaving only hollow eye sockets and exposed muscles and bones. “Oh gods…” Julian’s voice behind him seemed to shake him out of his stupor, voice thin and clearly on the verge of vomiting. “I thought they stopped doing that…”

Lucio looked up at him quickly, horror etched on his face. “What do you mean, you thought they stopped doing that?” His voice was breathy and panicked. “Doing  _ what _ , Jules?” Julian had closed his eyes, facing away from the scene and a hand over his mouth. “ _ What were they doing, Julian? _ ” Lucio’s voice was panicked, going up in pitch.

“Th-they were…” He swallowed down the bile in his throat as he searched for a way to respond to Lucio. His breath was heavy as he rubbed a hand across his face before he finally found the words. “They would have some of the local street dogs rip the faces off of anyone with the Plague. It happened only really in this neighborhood, but it stopped during the later stages of the Plague.”

Lucio looked back at the girl before dropping her chin and stepping away at the same moment. He kept stepping back, eyes fixated on the girl until he bumped into Julian. The taller man grabbed his arm, holding him firm. “Are you okay?” Julian asked, his other hand coming up to cup his cheek. Lucio nearly gave himself whiplash as he looked to Julian, face stricken with an emotion that seemed to be panic and horror merged. “Th-this was  _ common _ …?” He whispered, tears welling in his eyes and threatening to spill over. He gripped Julian’s forearms tightly, repeating his phrase a bit louder. Julian only nodded.

“This was…  _ beyond _ common. It got so bad at one point that if you even  _ coughed _ , you were killed.” He shuddered at the memory, at saving a little girl from death and sending her away. (He distantly wondered if the girl now dead in the alley was her. She’d be about the right age, looked close enough… He didn’t entertain that thought for long.)

Instead, he turned away from the corpse and dragged Lucio with him. Keeping their eyes away from the body. Lucio tried to refuse, starting to beg for them to go back, at least take her out to sea, or bury her, just  _ something, Julian, please…! _ But a weak, pained glare from Julian sent those pleads to silence. The blond looked down at the floor, eyes still brimming with tears and his mouth twitching. Julian let his hand fall to Lucio’s and lead him away, Lucio’s eyes fixed at the floor, his walking evenly paced and clearly distant. They continued walking, moving deeper into the quarantine, until there was a yell behind them.

Both men turned, Lucio brought out of his thoughts by Portia running up to them. “Hey! Hold up!” They waited for her, watching her even as she finished running to catch up to them before doubling over, trying to catch her breath. “Jesus, sorry…” She panted in front of them for a bit, a hand held up for them to pause, before she stood up straight, giving a cheery smile. “Sorry about that! I went to your clinic to go see where you were, lead you here.” She crossed her arms and gave a flat look. “Did the guards give you any trouble?”

“No,” both men answered at the same time, giving each other sharp looks right after before returning to Portia. “We were careful,” Julian assured softly, though his words turned a bit teasing as he continued, “it’s why I dressed Lucio up as a doctor.” Said man turned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Julian. “So  _ that’s _ why you dressed me up like this.” He gave his signature, smug ass smile, and Julian’s heart admittedly skipped a beat. He forgot how much he’d missed that. “Not because you just thought I’d look hot in this.”

“Why not both?” Julian breathed, far too quickly to be a thought up lie. The blunt and brutal truth of his words surprised all three of them, Julian and Lucio looking away from each other, bright red and awkward, while Portia gave them both the flattest look she could give. After a second, she sighed and walked between them, further into the quarantine. “C’mon. Nadia won’t be kept waiting forever.” She snagged their hands as she went, dragging them along with her.

They all remained silent, Lucio continuing to look around, and while at first it looked like he was criticizing, it took Julian only a moment to realize that he was more like assessing. Seeing what was around them so he could find pathways out, or to help with bodies. It was admittedly impressive how quickly Lucio went from one thing to the next, and Julian wondered just what all he was taking in.

And that answer was everything. It was also places where beetles could hide, where the most damage would be should this all start a riot, houses that looked weaker than the others, alleyways and which ways they went off or if they were a dead end, what shops were what, among many other things he didn’t want to ever explain. Mostly, he was realizing how badly the city went to shit while it was under his control, and how poorly it was still doing now, three and a half years after his rule. It made him… uncomfortable with his past actions. Which he figured was good. It meant he’d grown as a person. He presumed. He’d not really had to grow in… years. Decades, even.

They continued, not stopping until Portia seemed to spot Nadia ahead of them. She jogged ahead, skipping to a stop and grabbing her lovers hands, talking animatedly to her. Julian and Lucio stopped after a few paces, watching. Portia seemed so happy, and there was a small smile on Nadia’s face. Portia bounced and gestured wildly as she talked, Nadia watching her, occasionally laughing, eyes crinkling shut. Both men continued to watch, feeling no need to interrupt as of yet. After a few more moments, Portia turned her head and spotted them, her smile fading. Nadia whipped her head to them, a glare on his face, before it turned to painfully neutral. Her lips clearly said, “thank you Portia,” before she started to walk over to them, silently seething.

Lucio knew that face. It’d been directed at him far too many times. She was beyond pissed, possibly even beyond livid. Just pure rage rested in her ruby eyes, and he hunched himself over, flesh hand holding onto his metal. He honestly wished he could just disappear into the earth, but luck was never on his side like that. Not even when Nadia stormed to right up in front of him and stopped merely inches from him. Close enough that when he looked down, he could see the toes of her boots. “Lucio,” she greeted curtly, voice clearly on the verge of a sneer.

“Countess,” he greeted back, far more meek and awkward. He swallowed down his fear, keeping his eyes away. He could feel Nadia’s eyes staring into his head, boring holes through it and into the street. They remained like that for a while, silent and Nadia continuing to glare, Lucio continuing to look away, until she sighed heavily. “Do you know why you’re here?” She asked flatly.

Lucio finally looked up, eyes terrified and glossy. “To… deal with the bug problem?” He tried to joke weakly, an equally weak and wobbly smile on his lips. Nadia remained silent, the only evidence that she’d even heard him was her eyebrow quirking up, the sides of her mouth tugging down a bit more. He didn’t see Julian and Portia wince in sympathy, nor them both share a worried glance. Nadia shifted, intent to move back and away, though Lucio read it more as drawing back to hit him. Enough so that he flinched away, preparing for pain.

Nadia stopped, frown growing deeper for an entirely different reason. Her hand came up to gently touch his arm, unsurprised in the worst of ways when he swayed back a little. “Bad time to make jokes?” He muttered, crossing his arms and resolutely looking away. More silence, enough that he started to rock on his feet to keep himself from panicking. He was surprised when he heard a small chuckle, a barely there sound, from Nadia. It shocked him enough he looked back at her, clearly afraid he’d overstepped some sort of boundary. Instead, he was greeted with her softly smiling. A bit weary around the edges, and it didn’t fully reach her eyes, but it was still there. She shook her head, muttering a quiet, barely there, “how could I forget his shitty sense of humor,” to herself. She looked back at him, snorting in amusement. “I forgot you made jokes to deal with trauma.”

Lucio raised an eyebrow, arms nearly dropping before he clenched his fingers. “What do ya mean?” She just shook her head again, waving a hand. “Later,” she placated, already walking to the siblings. He watched her go, and suddenly felt very out of place. He could  _ feel _ eyes on his back, and he held onto himself more. When he turned around, sure enough, there were guards, some straight up  _ glaring _ at him. He quickly turned back around and joined the other three, stopping nearby but not fully in the circle.

Julian laughed at something Nadia said, startling him enough that he looked up. They all were grinning at something Nadia had said, and suddenly, Lucio felt like he didn’t belong, not for the first time since he’d come back to life. Nadia was to his left, Portia to his right, and Julian on the opposite side of Portia. It felt like… he was just there. To exist. Not actually do anything good. He hunched over more, trying to make himself smaller. It all seemed to get tiny around him, distant. Like he was in a tunnel, and he swore he heard the buzzing of crickets and cicadas, overtaking and making him weak and-

He nearly came out of his skin, yipping and jumping nearly his height in the air in panic. When he finally returned to earth and had a brain cell once more, he looked up at them, heaving in heavy breaths. Portia had just gently grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his attention, if her drawn back hand and worried expression were anything to go by. Nadia’s eyebrow raise and frown seemed to be one of concern instead of annoyance now, and Julian’s face radiated doctorly worry. Enough so that he asked Lucio, “are you alright?”

Lucio nodded, giving a panicked chuckle. “Sorry, just was… thinkin’,” he lied. Well, half lied. He had been thinking, but it wasn’t actually thinking. More like delving into a spiral that lead him down a path of pain. In fact, as he released the grip of his hands, he noticed that his right arm hurt. He’d probably left finger sized bruises, and he forced himself to swallow. Julian stepped between the women, laying his hand on Lucio’s shoulder and gently shaking him, bending down so they could be eye to eye. “Are you okay?” He repeated, quieter but firmer.

Lucio paused, meeting his gaze before nodding slowly. “I’m fine,” he lied, though it came off as a truth. Enough so that Nadia and Portia gave him soft smiles and turned to head towards a ship docked nearby. But not Julian. The red-head’s frown deepened, and he held Lucio’s shoulders with both hands, raising up to his full height. Lucio swallowed, mostly from intimidation. Julian’s eyes searched his, and Lucio knew right then and there Julian had seen through his lie. But instead of calling him out on it, he leaned down and gave his cheek a gentle kiss, lingering for a second before pulling away. “C’mon,” he murmured, letting his hands slide down his arms to end at his hands, holding them. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

Lucio’s entire face flushed a bright red, almost to the color of the other man’s hair, swearing that his freckles were on clear display. Julian released one hand, lightly tugging on the other to get him to move. Lucio raised a hand, gently touching where Julian had kissed, holding his hand there in shock. He … hadn’t expected that, in all honesty. Though now that it had happened, he was… overjoyed. He felt himself smile softly, a dopey little thing, as he was dragged along. It eventually wore off his face, just before they actually boarded.

Nadia and Portia were poking around, Portia more so, as Nadia would just lift objects with her sword and let them fall again. Lucio wasn’t sure who was more of an idiot, even as he stuck to Julian’s side. He and the doctor finally stepped onto the deck, and Portia’s head snapped up to them. She grinned at them, jogging over to them. “Glad to see you two again,” she teased, lightly punching Lucio’s shoulder. The blond gave her a weak smile, rubbing where she hit. “Glad to see you too,” he tried back, not sounding all there. If Portia noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just grabbed his free hand and dragging them over.

Nadia huffed as she dropped something off her sword, glaring at it as it disappeared behind a crate. “No beetles,” she grumbled, turning to them as she heard them approach. “No beetles,” she repeated, louder so they could hear. “Not on deck, at least.”

“Let’s head below,” Lucio said, turning to open a door that lead below. “It’s probably more down here. They would’ve either escaped or died on deck.” Opening the door sent a shock wave of smells up from below. Mainly sickness and death. And the tell tale musk of beetles. Lucio gagged at the smell, coughing from it all. The others recoiled just as much, Julian clearing his throat in an attempt to clear the scent from his nose. “Those’re beetles down there,” Lucio wheezed, leaning away to clear his nose of it.

He doubled over from coughing so hard, the smell still lingering on him. He didn’t even notice Julian had a mask in his hand that he was holding out to him for a good long while. Not until Julian shook it, the buckles on it jangling. Julian already had his own in his other hand, and when Lucio looked behind him, Nadia and Portia were already fighting to put on their own. He looked back at Julian, blinking. The red-head just shook his head. “Take it. Trust me.”

Lucio didn’t argue, taking the mask and standing up straight. He turned it around in his hands, appreciating it. It was the same pure white that Julian’s was, at least at the base. But the tip of it was gold, as if it’d been dipped in it. Along with most of the hardware on it. And the glass of the eyes was red. He looked up at Julian and blinked once, questioning. The taller man flushed bright red and started fiddling with the sleeve of his coat, a little embarrassed. “I uh… took some that remained, and painted them a while ago,” he admitted softly. “I wanted… to make something horrifying… beautiful.” Lucio felt… honored, if he was brutally honest. “And you made one… for me?” His voice cracked at the end of that, though he couldn’t mind too much.

“Y-yea…!” Julian looked away and scuffed his boots. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all!” Lucio honestly… loved it. It worked well, and if he paid attention, Julian had even painted his makeup on it in gold. That little detail made him smile, his thumb running over it gently. He’d once heard years and years ago that true love was being  _ seen _ . And it made him feel… seen. Noticed.  _ Loved. _ He made a mental note to give Julian something equally nice in return. What would the man like? Ah well, something to worry about another time.

He slid the mask on, fiddling with it until it was comfortable. When he looked back up, Julian was equally as ready, and it seemed like Portia had gotten hers on too. He noticed that she wasn’t in the normal Palace attire  _ just now _ , for whatever reason. It looked somewhere between the doctor outfits and one of Nadia’s. More colorful than theirs, but it covered just as much skin. She was helping Nadia with hers, and Lucio forced himself to not snicker. Nadia had seemingly given up trying to get it on herself, letting Portia do it. And he noted that they also looked different. The glass of their masks were a gradient, blue and bright pink. Portia’s looked like Julian’s as well, but was criss-crossed with dark orange stripes, and Nadia’s was dyed entirely purple. It was sweet how much effort Julian had put into these.

Finally, everyone was suited up. Lucio noticed how the inside smelled faintly of roses, and he… adored it. He looked up at Julian, eyes soft and warm. “How did you know?” He murmured, surprised Julian could hear him through the mask. The taller man laughed, leaning down to “kiss” his forehead with the tip of the mask. “I just know,” he teased, pressing himself close for a beat before suddenly leaning back. “I uh… you also aren’t subtle.” It was Lucio’s turn to laugh. He nodded as he laughed, waving a hand. “I know, I know, I’m not exactly known for my subtlety.” He turned back to the door, and sighed. “You two ready?” He yelled past Julian.

Portia and Nadia started, Portia even yelping. “Coming!” She yelled back, tugging Nadia behind her to join them at the door. Lucio snorted and rolled his eyes, before opening the door fully and descending down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was already nine pages. I had to cut this in half, otherwise, it'd be a twenty page long chapter.  
> Also! Congrats to me! This fic, as of this chapter, is one HUNDRED pages long! And we're only just starting on the first climax of the first arc. Holy shit, this is gonna be a long ass fic.


	19. Inspection Time Down at the Docks Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Docks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a life date at the bottom, so do please read.

He hated bugs. He hated beetles even more. And the fact that the Plague beetles looked  _ exactly _ like the kind his Tribe used to use to depict themselves on tapestries and in general? A living nightmare.

So imagine his horror when he saw  _ swathes _ of the dead fuckers all across the floors. Coating it in a disturbing layer of red. “Jesus Christ,” he rasped, trying to kick some away. It didn’t really help, as they were so thick, it was clear the entire ship had been overrun. Julian reached the bottom too, and Lucio could  _ feel _ his frown through his mask. “A breeding ship, perhaps?” He suggested, though he didn’t seem to entirely believe it himself.

“Perchance… but probably not,” Lucio replied, finally stepping down into the dead bugs. They crunched under his feet, a few of the newer dead ones squelching. He managed to not gag too much. He walked a couple paces in, the smell of death and decay and sickness still seeping somewhat into the mask. “Gods, this is hell…” His voice was low, more to himself than anything else, even as he removed the glove from his metal arm to light up the area around them.

It cast everything in a clinical white glow, sending it bouncing off walls and red carapaces alike. He was thankful it wasn’t the formerly sick red it had been, as he was pretty sure if it had been, he would’ve vomited. Stilled, he walked over to a desk that was nearby, moving some beetles and general debris off it to see what it was. “Maps,” he reported, holding them down to read them. “And a lot of ‘em…” He looked over them, seeing the tracking. “Strangely, these’re maps leading to other continents.”

“Travelers?” Julian questioned, joining him fully below, the women now just at the foot of the stairs, staring around in horror. The taller man joined him at the desk, also looking at the map. Lucio could  _ feel _ his frown, even as he snagged some other map from it’s hold, shaking some stubborn dead bugs from the bottom of it. “They really did get everywhere,” he muttered, spreading it out. Both men traced out the map with their eyes, before Julian pointed to an area. “They’re Nevivon travelers. Look at the script.”

Lucio quirked an eyebrow up at him, though it was lost behind the mask. “How can you tell that? The last map was in English,” he pointed out. “They could simply have maps from everywhere.” Julian’s eye roll could be felt from a mile off as he let the map roll up of its own volition, and pointed to some text on the outside. “Look, Russian.” Lo and behold, it was, written in a very messy script. Lucio snagged it and scrutinized it. “So it’s a Nevivon trade ship…” He looked it over again before plucking another map out of its sheath and unrolling it. He looked it over, frowning. “But what was a Nevivon trade ship doing outside the continent…?” He looked up at Julian, brows furrowed. “I thought their ships weren’t built for that.”

“They shouldn’t be,” he confirmed, looking over his shoulder at the map. “Those paths are too rough for Nevivon ships. Especially for a ship like this.” He took the map himself, glaring at it. Though it was clear his squinting was from lack of light, not him being annoyed. Lucio held his hand up helpfully, cocking his head to see if that was a good idea. He could feel Julian’s small, happy smile from behind his mask, and the taller man gave him a small nod of thanks. He went back to the map, looking over the routes. After a few moments, be sighed and let it roll back up. “We’ll have Nadia and Portia grab all these maps, take them up, have them cleaned and we’ll look over them back at the Palace.”

“We’re doing what?” Nadia questioned, the other two having finally joined them. Lucio and Julian turned to them, both men raising annoyed eyebrows behind their masks. “We need you to collect these maps and send them up top,” Lucio ordered, pointing to the maps and then back upstairs. Nadia crossed her arms and cocked a hip, clearly about to get into an argument. “Last I checked, you aren’t Count any more-”

“And last I checked, I’ve caused the Plague the last two times,” he snapped, glaring at her through the glass in his mask. His sudden aggression was apparently not expected as she took a step back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, okay, we’ll do that.” A small standoff still ensued until she backed down more, lowering her hands and putting them behind her. Lucio felt a bit of pride of that, at Nadia backing down. Instead of reveling in it, he looked down one of the halls just beside the stairs. He swept down it, not even waiting for Julian to follow him.

He would kick open whatever door he came across, splintering the wood and breaking the locks. After door three, Julian finally caught up to him, glaring at him. “What the fuck are you doing, Lucio.”

“Breaking down the doors so we can get into them,” he explained calmly, rearing back to kick down the next one. Julian grabbed his ankle, holding him still, still glaring through the mask at him. “Can’t we just get the keys?” He asked flatly, still holding onto his ankle. Lucio was thankful he had decent balance, otherwise, he would’ve gone ass over teakettle. He sighed and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “No, because the keys are gone, and all the doors are locked.” After a beat of silence, Julian nodded and let his ankle go, standing back a step so Lucio could break down the door.

It swung open, the lock broken beyond repair like all the others, opening into a small study. It was covered in more maps and bugs. More so than usual. He grimaced at the insects, lowering his foot to stand on both of them, stepping inside the room and looking around. “Seems like this was another study,” he said over his shoulder, brushing some bugs off the esk and looking through the rubble. “Maybe one specifically for making maps.” Given all the blank parchment and brushes and quills. “You’re probably right,” Julian murmured right up against his ear.

Lucio about came out of his skin, lurching forward in surprise, caught between the desk and Julian’s tall frame behind him. He  _ felt _ more than heard the man start to chuckle behind him, turning around and glaring at him, backed against the desk. “Don’t  _ do that _ , “he hissed, leaning forward to try and get close to his face to intimidate him, instead, only knocking the beaks of the masks together, making it almost look like they were kissing. He stubbornly ignored it, instead, hoping his energy screamed,  _ fuck you, Julian Devorak. _

It seemed that it didn’t, because Julian just gave him a chuckle and nuzzled back. “I’ll do what I want,” he teased, pressing forward slightly. Lucio wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel frightened or aroused. So, instead, he felt annoyance and gently head butted him to back up. “We need to check out the rest of the ship,” he pointed out as casually as he could, ignoring (and hoping that the glass covered) him looking down to where Julian’s lips would be if the mask wasn’t there. He was still debating if he loved or hated these damned masks. Mostly because his mind wandered and-

No. They were there on official business. Investigating. He couldn’t afford to get distracted right then and there. Neither of them could. He put his hands on Julian’s shoulders, and gently pushed him back. Slowly, more of an encouragement to push him away, which he accepted and did. “Later,” he murmured, taking in a deep breath. “We can talk about…  _ this _ ,” he gestured between them, “later.” He half expected Julian to be upset, either entirely leaving or demanding an explanation right then and there, but instead, he pulled back only a bit, nodding. “I would love that,” he murmured, gently pressing the tip of his “beak” to the top of Lucio’s head, a mimicry of a kiss. Lucio was thankful for the mask, as it now covered his bright red blush.

Instead of showing just how red he was, and how flustered, he ducked past Julian and into the hallway again, venting his frustrations out on the doors. If Julian noticed Lucio kicking harder than before, he kindly didn’t comment.

After far more doors than wanted (and far too many useless rooms), Lucio finally reached the last door, at the very back of the ship. He was huffing, though, exhausted from kicking down the doors and finally having worked through all his rage. He was doubled over in front of the door, trying to get his breath back. Julian was currently a couple of steps away, arms crossed, watching him, entertained. Lucio glared at him through the mask, tempted to kick out at him. Instead, he just snapped, “gimme a minute, and stop  _ laughing! _ ”

Julian waved a hand, shrugging off his annoyance. “I’m not laughing at you,” he assured, walking up to his side and running his hands through Lucio’s hair, gently tugging it. The blond was not expecting his own reaction to be to moan and press up into the touches, practically purring at the attention. Julian just chuckled more at that, and kept tugging lightly. After a few seconds of that, he released Lucio and pushed him to the side. Lucio stumbled, catching himself on the wall. He nearly snapped at him, until Julian took in a deep breath, braced himself, and kicked down the door.

Lucio was honestly… very impressed. He didn’t even think Julian knew  _ how _ to kick down a door, though, he  _ was _ a pirate. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Still, he watched as Julian sniffed, proud of himself, before turning to Lucio and gesturing with his head to inside. “Shall we?” Lucio smiled and stood up from the wall, walking over to him and nodding. “We shall.”

They stepped inside the room, looking around. “Seems like this was the Captain’s quarters,” Lucio murmured, doing a quick turn around to inspect the whole room. Julian nodded, confirming with a quiet, “yup,” before suddenly veering off to the left to inspect something Lucio didn’t spot. The blond didn’t worry, instead going straight and to a large desk that sat against some windows. He started to fuss through it, looking through all the drawers and across all the shelves and whatever else he could find. But it seemed that there was nothing interesting there. And, from Julian sighing heavily a few steps away, he was having much the same issue. “Dead end?” Lucio asked as he turned around and leaned against the desk.

“Dead end,” Julian confirmed, looking vaguely annoyed and crossing his arms. “And I don’t know  _ why…! _ ” He tapped his finger, trying to keep from crunching any more bugs. “This is the last room we’ve checked aboard the ship, it makes no sense as to why we can’t find anything else…” As Julian started to ramble, Lucio let his eyes wander. Finally, eventually, he looked over and spotted something off. A panel on the wall, but it was too inset, and there were some bugs seeping out from under it. He walked over and started to knock on it, just testing to see if he was right and the beetles hadn’t suddenly become something like termites.

_ Thud _ against the wall right beside it.

_ Knock _ on the panel.

He repeated his experiment a few times before taking a step back and nodding. So it at least  _ was _ a door. Now, how to open it. He looked around the room, still ignoring Julian’s rambles as he searched. And eventually, he found it. On the desk. A small candle holder was sitting at an odd angle. Enough so that he realized it was probably the lever that opened the door. He cocked his head as he approached the holder, apparently drawing Julian out of his rambling. The taller man finally looked at him and cocked his head. “Lucio?”

The blond ignored him as he grabbed the holder and pulled it. It tipped forward easily, a half circle easily seen under the base. There was a groan and both men turned towards the panel, waiting. It slid to the side, away from the window, and a rush of dead beetles slid out. Julian shouted in surprise and horror, taking a step back, Lucio shrieking and leaping back, straight over the side of the desk and stumbling back into Julian’s arms. They clung to each other in horror and terror, waiting for some of the bugs to come to life and coming for them. Instead, nothing flew up. They were all long since dead.

They still remained like that for a few moments, terrified of the image in front of them. After those long, painfully silent moments, Lucio gently pulled himself from Julian’s embrace, creeping towards the pile. Julian reached after him, a soft plea of, “please be careful” falling from his lips. Lucio didn’t acknowledge it as he continued forward, stopping a pace in front of the pile. After another tense second of making sure they were all dead, he took in a deep breath before swiping them away. The beetles fell around him like the world’s most horrifying sand, spilling with a soft hiss. Eventually, though, he was able to see what was in the room. And oh gods, he wish he hadn’t. “Corpses,” he managed to say through the horror choking his throat. “There’s corpses.”

Julian rushed to his side and looked inside, and he could  _ feel _ the man’s horror as well. Almost all of them had been eaten at by the beetles, leaving nothing more than bones. It was a nightmare, but it seemed that all the beetles were currently, thankfully, dead. Once they were certain of it, they stepped into the room, poking around more. There were large, glass enclosures, full of dead beetles and… “Food,” Lucio muttered in horror, walking over to an enclosure and opening it, scooping out dead bugs and finding the decaying meat around old bone. “They were  _ breeding _ these things, Julian…!” He turned to Julian, body language conveying his horror, face twisted into one of equal measure behind the mask.

Julian looked equally spooked, walking over and gently pulling Lucio away. “We need to tell Nadia, right away,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Who  _ knows _ who else was breeding…  _ is _ breeding these things…” They made a quick getaway from the room, Lucio taking one look back at the skeletons, shuddering as one moved forward a bit, jaw dropping open, before they disappeared from his view.

Nadia and Portia had gone up and out of the main body of the ship, Portia taking deep breaths on the side of the ship, looking fairly ill, Nadia holding her and rubbing her back in soothing motions, clearly murmuring something soft to her. When the taller woman heard them exit, she looked up, eyes wide. “Did you find anything?” She demanded, though it was clear she was more spooked than anything. Lucio and Julian removed their masks, Lucio coughing out the remaining stale air of the ship into his arm. Nadia’s eyes locked onto Julian, silently demanding answer. The man nodded slowly, looking horrified as he turned his mask around and looking into its glassy eyes. “We found much more than we bargained for,” he admitted quietly, the horror seeping into his words.

Nadia swallowed heavily, Portia not looking up from where her eyes were locked onto deck. “What did you find?” Nadia asked quietly, voice threatening to break. When Julian nor Lucio answered after a beat, she held Portia closer. “Tell me!” She snapped, trying to glare at them, though it wasn’t as intense as her normal glare.

Julian shook his head, tongue heavy and fat in his mouth. He tried to speak, but he failed each time. Lucio finally stood up straight from where he’d been doubled over, stepping in front of Julian and meeting Nadia’s gaze firmly. “They were breeding Plague Beetles,” he answered, voice bordering on stern. “They were trying to make dye, but at some point, the beetles got out of control, attacking them and killing them.”

Portia squeaked and covered her ears, tucking into Nadia’s side. Nadia shushed and soothed her, looking back at Lucio after a second of this. She shook her head, clearly in shock. “But they cannot have! It’s too dangerous of a trade!” She said loudly, voice wavering. Lucio shook his head and crossed his arms. “Not if the pay was good,” he muttered, glaring down the bridge of the ship. “They probably thought they had them under control… they even had glass enclosures, but…”

“When they entered Vesuvian waters, the beetles probably got out of control,” Julian interjected, filling in the story. Lucio nodded, letting Julian step forward and taking center stage. “It seems the beetles can only fully reproduce in Vesuvia, or, at least, to their greatest capacity. Since they were doing poorly, I’m guessing these people, these…” He frowned at some items on board, regarding them distantly, before turning back to Nadia and Portia, “ _ pirates _ , I suppose, thought they’d do better here.” He looked behind him, down the pitch back stairs, and shuddered. It felt like his eyes were glued there until he dragged his gaze away, back to Nadia and Portia. “It seems they were right, but-”

“They were quickly overrun,” Nadia finished, sounding distant but understanding. Her eyes flickered back and forth across a spot on deck, processing the information she just got. After a long moment, she sighed heavily and stood up, encouraging Portia to stand up with her. “We… should go home,” she murmured, holding her partner close. “We uh… We saw.” Nadia looked fairly green around the gills, eyes darting away to a random direction. Julian raised a placating hand and nodded. “No, we get it. We saw some horrifying things too.”

Lucio felt bad for them. Julian and him had seen  _ battlefields. _ Nadia had only seen hunts, she’d never had to kill a human. Portia was a pirate, but he highly doubted she’d seen some of the same things Julian had. In fact, he would bet and easily win that she  _ hadn’t _ seen some of the worst of pirates. And he felt bad. He swallowed down the bile that threatened to crawl into his throat. They probably saw a body, eaten near clean to the bone, and since they weren’t used to seeing a body like that…

He shook his head, walking forward and pressing a soft hand to Julian’s lower back. “We should… all head back to the Palace,” he sighed, looking at Portia and Nadia. “We’ll get the guards to start collecting evidence,” he said softly, pausing for a beat before adding on, “with your permission, Countess.” Nadia nodded stiffly, turning and leading Portia away. They walked down the wobbly plank, taking it slowly, before finally reaching the dock. Portia still looked pale and weak, but Nadia still held her close, leading her down, murmuring something to Portia, probably something soothing and supportive. Nadia looked back up at the deck, her and Lucio’s eyes meeting for a second. And they had a very silent, clear conversation.  _ This is your fault _ .

_ I know. _

They watched them go, Julian worried for his sibling, Lucio feeling more guilt eating at his gut. Once they finally left their field of vision, Julian sighed heavily, sitting down where the women once were, ruffling his hair as he let himself calm down. “Gods… this is a mess,” he groaned, ruffling his hair harder. Lucio gave a noncommittal grunt, crossing his arms and looking around the deck. Julian looked up at him, silent for a beat and watching him. It didn’t take long for Lucio to start to pace, fingers tapping a frantic beat on his arms. Julian still remained silent, still watching all this. After a moment, he spoke up. “I know what just happened between you and Nadia.”

The blond seemed to about leap out of his skin, pausing to turn to him with wide, open eyes. “You do?” Julian nodded, gesturing with his shoulder the plank. “You shared a look. One I do whenever my sister or I fuck up. And you two’ve been posturing ever since we came on board.” He looked more annoyed than anything, finally standing up and walking over to him. “The question is, why?” He narrowed his eyes at Lucio, using his height advantage to hopefully intimidate him into speaking. “Why are you two acting like pissed off peacocks?” Lucio had the humility to look ashamed, ducking his head and glancing another way. He ran a hand through his hair before starting to pace again. Julian groaned, taking enough time for Lucio to make two paces before Julian snatched his arm and held him in place, snapping, “enough!”

He regretted it soon after, because Lucio looked about ready to crawl out of his skin, face stricken and suddenly pale. Julian gulped down air, still holding onto him, before taking in a deep breath, holding it, and releasing it slowly. After another beat, he dragged Lucio into his arms, holding him. “Tell me what’s wrong?” The smaller man remained silent and still for a bit before slowly wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him. “I’m just tired,” he admitted softly, “that’s all.”

Julian knew that he wasn’t “just tired”, but he also knew better than to push it. Lucio needed to process all of this alone, every single part of it. He probably hadn’t before, not that Julian could blame him. He’d barely gotten any support in his childhood, he’d spent most of his life running away… The man needed some support for once, and if that was silent and just giving hugs, he could do that. They remained like that for a while before Lucio sighed and pulled back, just as some guards walked onto the plank.

Julian still had to refrain from running down below deck and dragging Lucio with him. He was an innocent and freed man, but old habits die hard. And it wasn’t hard to spot Lucio also flinching at their arrival. He had to ask later, when he was in a better mental state, about why he flinched at his former own guards, and if that was before or after he’d come back.

“Bring as many beetles and bodies and evidence from down below as you can,” Lucio ordered, pointing to the stairs. “Bring them to the Palace once you’re done.” The head of the team, a younger Captain, nodded, snapping the order to his men, all placing on masks and descending below. The two men watched until the Captain nodded at them and also disappeared. They gathered up the four masks before exiting the ship as well.

Nadia was waiting down at the dock’s edge, pacing it up and down, clearly waiting for them. Lucio felt a bit better at that, though not much. He opened his mouth and started to wave a hand to greet before he saw something. “The sewers…!” He muttered, suddenly taking the stairs down to the giant, gated off pipe below. “Lucio?” Julian called after him. Nadia looked at the taller man, gesturing to Lucio in a, “what is he doing?” motion. Julian simply raised his hands in defeat before following the blond, Nadia right on his heels.

Lucio threw the gate open, looking up and down it. They were a little over six feet high, and he knew that while these weren’t used as much anymore (there were perks to having a magical city), they would still lead up to the Palace. He turned and grinned at them, pointing down it. “We can have them move the bodies and beetles and any ill from the South End through the sewers,” he explained, proud of himself. Julian and Nadia peeked in, inspecting, Nadia sneering. “It looks filthy.”

“It’s better than having them be paraded about in front of the rest of the city,” Julian pointed out, looking at her. “And possibly spreading more bugs.” Nadia grumbled, standing up but nodding in agreement. “I’ll make sure the guards have the order right away,” she sighed, starting back up the stairs. Julian and Lucio watched her go, silent for a long moment before eventually heading up and starting to exit the docks as well.

Julian took the lead, a sudden pep in his step as he started talking about the Rowdy Raven and someone named Mazelinka and where Portia was. It wasn’t hard to stop paying attention and just adore the man as he walked. There was a certain swagger and interest in it that could leave anyone at it’s whim. And his voice and just…  _ him? _ Lucio chuckled, completely understanding why he usually had at least a few women fawning over him. He was  _ charming _ in his own way.

He paused at the mouth of the street, lips ticked down in a frown. But what was Lucio? What was he? Annoying, that’s what. He swiped those thoughts away for the time being. He’d deal with them later. When was later? He didn’t know. He just knew later.

There was a sudden and quick sting at the back of his neck, making him hiss and recoil in pain. He slapped at it, shuddering at the sound it made. Julian turned to him at that moment, frowning and cocking his head. “Lucio?” He called over the din, “what’s wrong?” Lucio shook his head, waving him on ahead with a convincing smile. Julian shrugged and kept moving forward, seeming to hum something. Lucio lowered his hand and stared at it’s new contents in dawning horror, feeling himself start to gag. Julian turned around again, grinning this time, yelling down to him, “Are you coming?” Lucio put his hand behind him and grinned back, nodding. “Coming!”

A single red beetle dropped onto the street as he ran over to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Life update!  
> I've been keeping this under wraps for a while, but my mom and I are moving to Germany. We leave here pretty soon, so if I randomly just... kinda die on here/don't upload on this fic for like, a week or two, just know I'm probably fine and still writing, just moving countries. Yes. Countries. From the USA to Germany.  
> That's about it. I'll still be around and existing, but I also know my life's about to get rocky here in a few days. I'm going to try and get some chapters punched out for while I'm gone, so hopefully, I'll still be able to upload. No promises, though.  
> But besides that, I hope y'all keep safe and keep enjoying the fic.


	20. Remind and Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio and Julian return to the Palace and end up having a long conversation with Asra's parents.

The debrief from the ship had been long. Painfully long. Long enough that Lucio had started to legit yawn, exhaustion from healing and walking so much on a wound finally breaking through his facade. After nearly five  _ hours _ of debrief, Julian decided to end it. Finally. “Look, Nadia, we’ve explained everything that happened ad  _ nauseam _ to you,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’ve  _ literally _ repeated this nearly ten times! We’re tired! We’re done!”

Nadia glared at him, standing up from her chair and clearly on the verge of raging. Both Portia and Lucio let out deep, groaning sighs. “No, we aren’t done! We still don’t have answers!”

“And  _ I _ have a patient!” Julian snapped back, slamming his hand against the table. He gestured to Lucio, who was currently attempting to become one with his chair. “He’s been on his leg for long enough, let alone he’s yet to eat and have his medication.” His glare deepened. “And it’s been eight  _ hours _ since he got up. He needs his food and rest.” The two standing continued to glare at each other, a silent showdown, one that lasted a few moments. Eventually, though, Nadia backed down, sitting back down heavily into her chair and rubbing her temples. “Fine. Go.”

Julian didn’t even give Lucio an option as he kicked his chair out and damn near dragged him up and out of the chair and out of the room. The blond hissed at the rough treatment, though didn’t fight against it. The second the large doors closed, though, he did buck Julian off, rubbing his shoulder. “Ow… be more  _ careful _ next time,” he hissed at him, watching as the taller man sighed and leaned heavily against the wall, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”

Lucio watched him for a second before sighing heavily and joining him on the wall. “I know…” He watched Julian for a bit longer, watching him decompress and try to calm down from the events of the day. Truly, they both had to be very tired. But especially Julian had to be. He hadn’t had a small coma of nearly a week. Lucio watched him breathe for another minute before leaning onto him, resting his cheek on his shoulder. It was comforting to be against him now, which, even just a month or so ago, he wouldn’t even believe the fact that he would find this endlessly comforting. He supposed it was just as odd for Julian, given he rested his own cheek on top of Lucio’s head a second later.

They stood like that for a bit before Julian turned his head and kissed his temple softly, nuzzling the hairline there for a beat before pulling off from the wall. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the clinic and let you rest.” Lucio followed him up before having a brilliant idea and smiling. “Maybe you should carry me.”

Julian stopped where he had been walking away and out, turning around with an incredulous look and choking out a small, entertained but unsure, “what?” Lucio huffed and crossed his arms, forcing himself to look annoyed. “I said, maybe you should carry me. Come on, what are you, deaf?” Normally, his words would come off as abrasive and offensive, but there was a light and playful tone to them that made Julian snicker. Lucio’s huff and frown faded into a soft smile and chuckle, and he strode over to him with arms held wide open. “Is that a yes?”

Julian scoffed and rolled his eyes overdramatically, walking over and hugging Lucio. “Yes, fine.” Lucio giggled at the hug, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him close, pressing his cheek to his broad chest. They both remained like that, Julian lowering his face into Lucio’s hair and kissing the top of his head. Lucio nuzzled into the taller man’s chest, breathing him in and sighing softly. “You smell nice,” he hummed. Julian let out a bark of laughter before suddenly stooping down and pulling him up into a bridal carry, leaving Lucio shrieking in his arms. “Warn me next time, asshole!” He squawked, smacking Julian’s chest with his flesh hand.

“Mmmm no.” Julian was still chuckling as he carried him down the halls of the Palace, ignoring the odd looks from the servants they both got. Lucio “fought” for a second before settling down, crossing his arms and giving an over dramatic huff. Though, he was cuddling into Julian’s chest a second later, practically purring at the affection. And, well, if his actions kept Julian giggling, his laughter still coming out of his chest in beautiful, deep rumbles, Lucio would do it until the end of the world.

As they made their way through the Palace, they passed by the Alnazar’s shop. The doors were cracked open, heat and magic blaring out from inside. Lucio still flinched away from it, enough so that Julian noticed and stopped. He looked between Lucio and the door for a second, frowning, before settling on Lucio. “What’s wrong?”

The blond shook his head. “Nothing. They just don’t like me. Let’s go.” Julian’s frown deepened as he gently let Lucio’s legs down, though the arm around his shoulders remained. “No. Let’s go talk to them.” He already started to walk to the doors, intent on walking in and “solving” the issue. Lucio grabbed his arm and tugged him back, shaking his head, face stricken with fear and anxiety. “No, don’t. Just…” He took in a deep breath and released it, looking at the floor instead of his face. “Don’t.” His face fell as he released Julian’s arm, hand dropping pitifully to his side. “It’s not worth it…”

That all seemed to be the wrong response, because Julian’s face fell before it steeled again, grabbing Lucio’s hand and slamming the door open. Both Lucio and the two tenants inside jumped, the noise spiking pain behind Lucio’s forehead. He’d have to tell Julian about that later, though right now, he had bigger things to focus on. Salim and Aisha had been working on… something, and both were clearly startled by the two men in the doorway. Though, not by Julian, given Aisha’s breathy, shaky whisper of, “Count Lucio?”

The blond tried to pull himself away, get out of there before any more damage could be done, but Julian’s grip was like iron, and he’d know. He’d been thrown into iron shackles before. He gave up trying to flee after another second, and instead went to trying to become as small as he could behind Julian, trying to hide in his shadow that he cast, though he knew his pale hair stood out in the gloom.

Julian finally stopped about halfway through the room, inspecting it with a critical eye. Salim was the first to break free of his panic, walking forward with an unsure smile and wringing hands. “Hello there! You must be Julian Devorak-”

“Doctor Devorak, if you please, and yes,” his eye went from inspecting the room to locking onto Salim in a second, the gray becoming steel in a flash, “I am. You must be Asra’s father, correct?” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrow raising and looking down at him with an unamused eye. Salim squirmed under the withering look, nodding slowly. “Yes, I am.” Lucio was impressed that his voice didn’t quiver and shake under it, knowing that his very much would. “Good. I want to ask what you know from what your son and what the Countess have told you.”

The other three people in the room blinked, confused at the question, brains slowly catching up to what he had said. It was Lucio who reacted first, stepping out from under Julian’s shadow to step beside him and scowl up at him, crossing his arms. “What does Asra and Nadia have to do with them not liking me?” He asked point blank. “I threw them into the dungeons because I was a selfish, childish  _ brat _ of a grown man, and they were manipulated by the Devil.” He shook his head and gestured at them, though more at Salim, as he was front and center. “There’s nothing else  _ to _ really talk about.”

Julian turned to him and opened his mouth to retort, though he was cut short. “That…” Salim suddenly speaking made the other two men turn to him instead, “was not what we were expecting out of your mouth, Lucio,” he admitted softly, any anxiety that had his shoulders practically up to his ears gone, leaving him looking very tired. The blond blinked again, unsure of what he’d heard for a long second. He looked at the floor for a beat before returning to Salim, squinting. “What do you mean, you weren’t expecting that out of my mouth?”

“Because we’d been told you… weren’t like that,” Aisha spoke up, stepping out of the shadows she’d hidden herself in to stand beside her husband. “Asra and Nadia told us… that you…” She paused, looking at her husband and chewing on her lip. He looked back, both debating silently before he sighed and looked back to Lucio. “We were told that you… weren’t regretful of your actions,” he admitted, looking guilty. “And that you were…  _ proud _ of some of the horrors you committed.”

Lucio felt anger, anxiety, terror, disgust, shame, remorse, and about fifteen other smaller emotions he couldn’t place sent an icy cold sword to his stomach that almost left him gagging. “Proud?” He said, high pitched and offended. “Of things I don’t remember?!” He honestly felt a little ill at the idea of that. Because why  _ would _ he feel proud of things the Devil had done? Hells, he wasn’t proud of half the shit  _ he’d _ done. In fact, a majority of it, if he could go back and kill himself or just stop himself from doing it, he would. In a heartbeat, current timeline be damned. He remained in his head for a little while before looking up, realizing that everyone else in the room had been staring at him while he’d processed. He felt himself blanch, horror creeping over him as he took a step back and hunched over a little, a little, “oops,” escaping him. He hadn’t meant to say that, at all. That had been an honest mistake and now they were going to get mad at him and-

“Lucio… do you really not remember certain things?”

He about came out of his skin at the light touch of Aisha’s hand on his arm, nor her soft voice bringing him out of his head again. He started and flailed minorly, mostly in an attempt to get away. However, it seemed Aisha was not content to be thrown off that easily, and instead approached him like a wild animal. Part of him felt a bit offended and upset that they were treating him as such, but he also was very aware that… he really did act like one. How snappish he was, how quickly he ran… he was like a skittish, abused dog. A fighting dog. He stood still, letting her hold onto his arm gently. “... What don’t you remember?”

“Most of everything,” he admitted quietly. “Especially of the military campaign. For the last… ten years, I don’t know what happened. Until…” He shuddered and placed a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly remembering the bug from just before. He knew he looked panicked, feeling it wash over him like the world’s most sticky ocean wave. Aisha gently pulled his arm back down, taking his hand into her own and nodding sagely. “The Plague,” she finished. He nodded and confirmed equally sagely, “the Plague.”

“What…  _ happened _ during the Plague?” Salim asked softly. He held a finger up to Julian as he heard the man do an intake of breath. “I know in general, but I meant to Lucio specifically.” His violet eyes seemed to pierce through his skin as he turned to watch the blond, cocking his head. “What… happened to you?” Lucio could feel himself grow distant from the situation, head growing full of cicadas and blurry like the blizzards of the South. His breath felt lighter, and he swore he heard the braying of wolves in the distance before he felt a very warm, but delicate hand against his face.

He was started out of his panic and looked down, surprised to see Aisha still there, but now with a hand against his cheek, frowning up at him. “When was the last you’ve eaten?” She demanded, wrapping the tips of her fingers around the backside of his jaw and dragging him down, inspecting his eyes. “You’re too pale for even just normally upset. You’re  _ Julian _ pale.” She turned to the taller man and glared at him. “Have you been feeding him?”

Julian raised his hands in surrender. “To be fair to myself,” he said, tone clearly on the defense, “he was in a four day coma and I fed him when he awoke. But that was still…” He sighed and thought, bobbing his head side to side as he counted the hours. “... eight hours ago?” He shrugged. “Blame Nadia, she was obsessed with getting quote on quote, “new information.”” He rolled his eyes in annoyance. Aisha returned her stare back to Lucio, humming as she continued her inspection, now reaching up into his hair and lightly pulling on it. He hissed at the treatment, dipping down towards her more to relieve the pressure, which only led to more worried mother picking and preening.

Salim opened his mouth to try and suggest that  _ “maybe _ we get more information from Lucio about the Plague’s effects on him,” when Aisha glared at him and put Lucio’s head on her shoulder. “We can ask questions later, Lucio needs our help now.” Lucio tried a mumble protest, though he was silenced by a finger to the lips. “No argument.” She glared at her husband until he sighed and backed down with his hands up. “Alright, alright… do you want me to go get the cookies?”

Lucio perked up at that, platinum eyes going wide. “Cookies?” Aisha nodded firmly, dragging Lucio over to some stools around a squat, circular table. The stools were just as squat and circular, though heavily cushioned. Aisha nearly shoved him into one before holding her hand out. “Jacket,” she snapped. He shook his head and held it closer, worried about them seeing the scars. She held her hand out, still instant, practically glaring at him. “Jacket,” she repeated, more firm. Lucio flinched back, a bit afraid, surprised when there was suddenly a broad chest against his shoulder, a hand reaching past him to gently lower Aisha’s hand. “Not right now,” Julian said softly, his other arm coming to wrap around Lucio’s shoulders. “Give him some minor comforts.”

Aisha seemed conflicted for a moment before her face fell into one of apology. Her hand dropped back to her side and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just used to working with my son…” Julian raised an eyebrow as he dragged Lucio up against his chest, kissing his temple. “Used to working with your son? What do you mean?” Aisha sighed heavily, sitting down and scrubbing her hands over her face. “He’s been… difficult. Especially since your return, Lucio.”

“He’s been more aggressive,” Salim joined in, some tea and cups on a tray. “And overall more angry. When you returned, I honestly thought he was going to go kill a man.” He gave an awkward, unsure chuckle, setting the tray down on the table gently. Lucio was torn between being interested and cuddling further into Julian’s chest, as if he could ignore and just hide from the world. So, he settled for the best of both worlds. Pressing himself tighter against Jules and raising worried eyebrows. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because he hates you,” came three voices. There was a beat before everyone laughed briefly at the synchronization from everyone else. “But no, to be serious,” Julian said, sobering up quickly, “Asra fucking hates you. Like, with a burning passion, hates you.” Salim nodded and looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’ve never seen that child as mad as when he’s mentioned you. Like,” he looked up to Lucio, sympathy in his eyes, “we even bring up your name, and he’ll go on a thirty minute rant about how terrible of a person you are.”

“Thirty minutes, huh?” Lucio chuckled sardonically, raising an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know I left  _ that much _ of an impression on him.” Though, no one else seemed to find it funny, staring at him worriedly. He giggled for a couple more seconds before eventually quieting down, an awkward cough to finish it all off. “Sorry, I just… found it kinda funny.”

“We can tell,” Julian said flatly, watching him for a second before processing. “Oh. Oh,  _ now _ I get why it’s funny.” He snickered himself, hiding his laughter behind his hand. “Y-you’re right. Why  _ is _ he so obsessed with you? It’s almost like he’s a scorned lover.” Julian’s giggling started to infect Lucio, the blond starting to laugh again. “I mean, I guess he sort of is…”

“Wait, what?” Salim was joining in with the laughter, voice incredulous and amused as he asked the question. “What do you mean, he’s sort of a scorned lover?” Lucio raised a hand, giving Salim a slightly pleading look. “Promise to not get pissed?” Aisha rejoined them, smiling softly and holding a tray of cookies. “Of course not,” she said lightly, sitting down beside her husband and giving him a warm smile. “So… do tell us. What about our son and being a scorned lover?”

“Alright alright alright,” he waved a hand, managing to get his laughter under control. “So, get this. Fucker  _ sleeps with me _ , which,” he shrugged, “whatever. But…” He gave them an unsure look, worried he may be overstepping lines. “Are you… okay with hearing about your child’s lovelife?” Both of them shrugged and nodded. “Trust us, we highly doubt there’s anything you can say we haven’t heard before,” Salim said, laughing slightly. Lucio chuckled back, nuzzling more into Julian’s chest before sighing and starting.

“Honestly, like… the guy’s much better as a  _ bottom _ in bed, I’ll preface with that. But as a top? He’s pathetic. I  _ distinctly _ remember looking at him after he’d cum, keep in mind, separate occasions, and I’m like… looking up at him, and go, “that’s… that’s it? That’s all I get?”” He snorted in laughter as he thought back on the memory, shaking his head. “You’d thought I’d just insulted  _ you two _ . Like, gave me the best death glare I’ve ever seen and went, “What do you meant, is that it?”” He leaned forward, away from Julian and towards Salim, the latter leaning forward, Aisha also leaning forward, deeply interested. “I thought I was straight up going to  _ die _ because of his glare. He proceeded to throw a fit that would rival mine, throwing his clothes on and leaving in a huff.” Lucio in the present crossed his arms and also huffed, clearly still somewhat annoyed by the memory. “I had to jerk myself off that night because he couldn’t be bothered to understand that I wasn’t happy.” Julian snorted suddenly at the story, shaking his head. The other three cocked their heads at him, and Lucio had to force himself to not throw a fit. “What’s so funny?” He asked, internally wincing a bit at his annoyed tone.

Julian just shook his head, holding up a hand before raising it up and managing to talk. “Oh my gods, the same thing happened with me. He’s a  _ terrible _ dom or top. Like,” he gestured to himself, “I’m a switch leaning sub and bottom. I’ve no issue admitting that. But at least I can top and dom. He  _ tries _ to do that, but he just…”

“Can’t?” Aisha and Salim offered, voices understanding if not disappointed. Julian nodded, looking almost urgent. “I remember that, when we were together, it never felt like he was there. With  _ me _ . It was… like I was a rebound…” Lucio held up a hand suddenly, cutting him off. “And when did you say this was?” Julian hummed and sat back, thinking on his timelines. “I would say… right after the Apprentice died, but before you were killed.” Lucio went pale and still, processing the words he’d said. If he pieced that timeline together correctly… “That was right before, or right at the start, of him working at the Palace.”

The entire energy of the room came down, silence taking a hold of them all. “... What?” Salim asked flatly, the first person to break the obsidian silence. Lucio nodded, looking up from the floor to directly at Salim. “Asra came to work at the Palace right around that time. I always found it a little odd, suspicious even, but never really thought anything of it.” He flinched at the memory, regretting the fact that he hadn’t seen it sooner. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was using that time to get close to me or Nadia, see what I was all about, how ill I was getting…”

“You think he was casing you,” Aisha concluded, face pinched up in something that seemed like dull horror. Lucio nodded, taking his tea and gripping the hot ceramic, the sensation keeping him grounded better than any cold could. “Yes.” He looked up at her, face serious. “Yes I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, so I fly outta the states next Saturday, so the chapter may very well be uploaded Friday or maybe even Thursday. Don't flip, I'll be back to Saturday soon enough, but I would rather upload early and have y'all HAVE a chapter than not.
> 
> I'll talk to y'all soon!


	21. Talks about Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More important talks. Though, now it's clearing up some petty lies.

The silence in the air after that was… palpable. You could  _ taste _ it’s acrid body in the air, like a rotting, stinking corpse. Part of it was that Aisha and Salim had  _ never _ seen Lucio that serious. Or at least, not in a way that wasn’t comically overdone. The fact that he was straight faced about it and not making a whole big deal… made it feel all the more real. Julian wasn’t surprised, but he was still… disturbed. It added on an entire new layer of betrayal to their relationship. Enough so that he asked more to himself, “so then was he only with me as a way to get into the Palace?”

Everyone’s eyes turned towards him, Aisha’s narrowing. “What?” Julian raised a hand, hoping to get some words in. “Think about it, though. He starts… well, not dating,” he waved a hand as he sneered, “but fucking me, and I’d just started work at the Palace…” He frowned at the floor, leaning forward and debating. “He could’ve-”

“I still don’t think he would,” Salim cut in. “The casing, yes, but unless he’s  _ really _ grown that corrupt with some type of false power,” Lucio didn’t miss the quick look over to him at all, “then I highly doubt there was anything malicious there at all.” Aisha nodded, though bit her lip. “Though… I could also say that he was probably using you as a rebound, in a weird, roundabout away... “ She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking frustrated and annoyed. “Over someone he wasn’t even with…”

“And that’s always been my problem with it too,” Lucio jumped in. “Like, the timing’s sketch as  _ fuck _ . And he wasn’t a good partner, from what I can tell.” Julian shook his head, face tinging pink as he remembered back. “He uh… ahem, he would always rush on ahead without even really  _ thinking _ about it. I distinctly remember a few too many times where I would ask him to do something, he wouldn’t be comfortable with it, I’d say that we could stop, and he would just…” He shook his head and waved a hand, exasperated. “Rush on ahead.” His face fell. “I always felt like it was  _ my fault _ for wanting that, and it was only solidified when Asra would leave right after.” He winced as he rolled his shoulder in memory. “Sooo many nights without aftercare…”

Lucio shook his head, sighing heavily, the sigh echoed from Asra’s parents. “That boy,” Salim groaned, removing his glasses and rubbing at an eye. After a beat, he sat back up and put his glasses back on, giving them both sympathetic looks. “I’m… so sorry for what he’s put you through.”

“Not that you haven’t earned it,” Aisha chimed in, pointing at Lucio, though there was no malice there, surprisingly. Lucio nodded before shaking his head and raising his hands in surrender. “Oh, of course, agreed. I was an  _ asshole _ .” He had no issue admitting that. Not anymore. “Hell, I’m  _ still _ an asshole. That’s just…” He chuckled and shrugged. “Part of who I am.” Aisha and Salim snickered, the latter nodding. “Yes, yes it is. Still, though,” he sobered quickly. “My son shouldn’t be basically slandering you.”

Lucio shrugged again, leaning back against Julian’s chest. “He wouldn’t be the first, nor the last, to do so. In the nicest of ways, the word of a mere magician wouldn’t be that impressive of someone bitching about me.” He looked up and spotted something odd. “Hey, y’all have lights?” The other three followed his gaze, Aisha and Salim nodding. “Yes, we do, but they do not work anymore,” Salim explained with a sigh, lowering his gaze and rubbing the back of his head. “We do not know why, though I wish we did.” Lucio hummed before suddenly standing up and going over to where he  _ knew _ he saw a light switch near the door.

The other three watched him go before shrugging and returning to general conversation. “So… Lucio’s Plague symptoms,” Salim asked Julian, eyebrow raising. “Were they the same or different?” Julian sighed and shrugged, leaning back a little and crossing his arms. “They were mostly the same, but he was unique… mostly because he,  _ himself _ was a carrier of the Plague.” He drummed his fingers, thinking. “And while he gained the veins and eyes of Plague victims, almost all his ailments besides that were unique to him. In the later periods of his illness, he coughed up blood, grew insanely thin, and had a hard time breathing.” He looked behind him to where Lucio was looking up and down the wall, undoubtedly searching for what was fucking with the lights. He turned back to Aisha and Salim. “And,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, “I don’t think he even fully recovered…”

The parents’ heads cocked, worry falling over their faces. “What do you mean?” Aisha questioned. “He seems fine to me,” Salim agreed. Julian frowned and shook his head. “He  _ pretends _ he is, but he’s not… He wheezes more and he’s had a hard time going for as long as he used to. For instance,” he gestured slightly, “you remember those runs he used to do?” The other two nodded. “Yea. He’d be able to go for literal  _ miles _ before he got tired.”

“Well, now he can’t go as long. I would say his distance has been cut down by almost a third.” They both flinched and winced in sympathy. They couldn’t imagine how much that had to suck for Lucio, mostly because they weren’t  _ him _ . “And we noticed that he’s not as…” Aisha started, but paused, unsure how to phrase it. “Curvy?” Julian offered. She sighed but nodded. “Yes. He’s not as curvy as before. He’s…” She gestured a little, thinking. “Thinner.  _ Scrawnier _ . Especially around his waist.” She leaned her chin on her hand, thinking, a deep frown on her face, eyes searching for nothing on the table. “Could he still be dealing with some after effects of the Plague?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Julian admitted softly. “He strikes me as someone who’s surprisingly fragile.” Salim gave a light, sardonic laugh. “Yea, that’d be Lucio alright.”

He tuned out the conversation after that. Lucio was too focused on the wall now, looking over the wiring and being confused as all hell as to why they weren’t  _ working _ . After a moment, and looking down the wall, he noticed that the wiring got hidden by machines and other working instruments. Enough so that no one would spot where the wires and metal casing had been split cleanly through. He frowned as he stepped down from the steps by the door, walking to where the split was.

Completely hidden by a decent sized machine. He scooted it out of the way, glaring around the other side. He heard Salim yell at him to probably stop, but he was being careful, seeing that there was still stuff on and in it. Once it was out of his way, he looked at the wiring. No, it’d definitely been split by someone who was upset and threw something, a knife or magic, from the door. There was even a small score on the wall. He hummed as he thought before sighing. He peeled off the gloves, holding up his metal hand. “Alright, c’mon magic,” he muttered to himself, “don’t fail me now.” He took in a deep breath and summoned… something. He watched as the tips of his metal hand became red hot, and smiled widely. He did it. He did magic! All on his own!

Celebrate later. Fix the wires now. He made sure the light switch was off (it was) before setting about fixing the wires. It took a few moments (with a lot of hissing and then eventually switching hands), but he fixed the wiring. He was confident enough that he even fixed the casing before returning to the door. He looked up, finger on the switch, and took in another deep breath. He flicked the light switch, apprehensive and worried that he’d failed.

Instead, the lights above flickered for a second before turning on and staying on. He grinned at his work, endlessly proud. Aisha and Salim squinted and blinked at the sudden light that washed over them all. Lucio pulled away from the light switch, watching in pride for a couple more seconds before walking down the stairs and rejoining them. “And thusly, a God said, “let there be light.”” He gestured and bowed, proud of himself. The other three clapped politely, smiling and even giggling as Lucio “soaked up” the praise.

After a beat, they stopped, and another beat of silence happened. Once it was over, they all laughed, Lucio finishing his walk over and sitting back down. Aisha was still sort of snorting when Salim started to speak again, smiling warmly at Lucio for the first time… ever. “Thank you, Lucio. We weren’t sure what was causing that issue.” Lucio shrugged, holding out his arm as he said, “consider it the smallest of thanks I can give at the moment for making and fixing my arm.”

Aisha sobered at those words, her and her husband staring at him in awe. “Lucio,” she nearly whispered, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say thank you.” Lucio stared at her and raised an eyebrow. “What?” Aisha nodded. “It’s the first time I’ve heard you say it with any sincerity and not without an evil gleam in your eye.” 

“An evil gleam?” He repeated flatly, eyebrow going higher. “I don’t have an evil gleam…” Julian looked at him and snorted in amusement. “No, you can look rather wicked, especially when you’re getting something you’ve wanted for a while.” Lucio’s face fell and he looked at the floor. “Oh.” He hadn’t realized… at all. If that meant that he was…  _ evil looking _ … He swallowed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I-I didn’t realize…” Julian and Aisha put comforting hands on his shoulders at the same time, one on either side. “We know,” they assured, everyone giving a soft chuckle at the similar words. Julian still dragged Lucio back into his chest, nuzzling the top of his head. “You’re safe here, alright?”

“... Alright.” He didn’t tell him about the beetle. He knew he eventually would, but he just… he couldn’t. Not right then. Soon. Instead, he just appreciated Julian’s warmth for a bit. None of the others seemed upset that he was falling asleep against the broad chest he was leaning on. If anything, they seemed supportive and even quieted down, Julian holding him close and resting his head atop Lucio’s. It was warm and safe and Lucio managed to only rest instead of fully fall asleep, barely listening to the conversation. It seemed to flip and flop around, changing occasionally.

After a while, Julian sighed and looked down at Lucio. “Alright… I should probably get him off to bed,” he sighed. “We’ll have to stay here for the night.” Aisha and Salim nodded, Salim standing up and walking over to the door and opening it. “You two are free to join or visit us whenever,” he said softly. Julian smiled at him and nudged Lucio, the blond humming as he sat up and yawned. “Mm? Oh, yea, thank you.” He gave Aisha a sweet, sleepy smile, standing up and holding out a hand. “Thank you again. For all your work.” She returned the sweet smile, chuckling lightly. “You’re more than welcome and fine.” After a beat, she paused and her smile fell. “Lucio… did you…” Salim and Julian stiffened, Lucio cocking his head. She took in a deep breath before looking him dead in the eyes. “Did you send the Devil to deal with us?”

His smile fell into a frown, and he shook his head. “No, no I didn’t.” He was a little offended that they would even think that, but he couldn’t say that it wasn’t a fair suggestion. “I honestly hated that guy… I.” He paused and swallowed. “I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did.” Julian stepped up behind him and wrapped him up in his arms. “We know why,” he hummed, kissing his temple. “We both know why.” Lucio nodded slowly, raising his hands to hold onto Julian’s arms. “I know…  _ now _ I know.” He leaned back into his arms and sighing softly. After a long moment of silence, Lucio looked up at him. “Can we go to sleep? Please?”

“Of course,” Julian rumbled softly, lowering his arms and holding his hand. Aisha seemed to release a long held breath, even more tension falling from her shoulders. “Okay… that’s all we wanted to know. It’s… good to know you didn’t send him after us.” Salim nodded, joining them again. “He told us you wanted to  _ kill _ us.” Lucio’s face scrunched up in offense. “What? No. Keep you down there and make you promise to never make another arm like my own, sure. But why would I  _ kill you? _ You did nothing to me.”

“Oh thank God.” Aisha pressed her hand over her heart in relief, Salim doubling over and gulping down air. “We were  _ terrified _ of that being true,” she explained, gesturing around them. “The fact that it’s not is so relieving.” Lucio nodded. “I can imagine…”

“Thank you,” Salim said, rising up and smiling at him. “I… you’re becoming a better man.” He held out his hand for Lucio to shake. Lucio stared at it in surprise and uncertainty before taking it and giving a strong shake, a smile on his face again. “Hey, no, thank you. I’m just glad we’ve managed to make up.” Salim laughed lightly before patting his shoulder. “I am glad too. It’s good to know you aren’t as cruel as you used to be. Or, well,” he gave a darkly playful smirk, “that the Devil made you be.”

Lucio laughed at that, chest shaking at the shitty joke at his trauma. “Glad to know that your asshole son has some equally asshole parents,” he teased, gently tapping his shoulder. More light laughter and eventually, they said their goodbyes, with Aisha and Salim waving them off down the hall from their door. Once the two men were halfway down the hall, the lovers disappeared into the workshop again, closing the door behind them. Lucio watched them disappear before sighing heavily and practically collapsing into Julian’s arms. The taller man just chuckled softly and helped him back to his feet. “C’mon. Back to your room.”

The walk back was slower than normal, Julian purposefully slowing Lucio down. “If you pull your stitches,  _ I _ will kick your ass,” he growled, holding onto his shoulders and keeping him close. Lucio groaned at the being held back, wrapping an arm around Julian’s waist. “Fineee…!” He sneered, though it fell to a pout a second later. “Stay with me in bed?”

Julian gave an overdramatic groan, but it was clear that he was still going to do that as he dragged him closer. “Alright, alright, come on. I’ll stay the night.” He gave him a soft smile, taking his free hand. “ _ Again. _ ” He nudged him gently, playfully, before kissing the top of his head.

“Oh no, not again,” Lucio teased, pressing up into his kisses. “What a shame… I have to stay in bed with a handsome, tall,  _ dark _ ,” he let his voice lower into a rumble as his hand clutched at Julian’s collar and gently dragged him down, “ _ sexy _ Plague doctor.” They were a hair's breadth away, breath mingling together. “What a shame.” Julian chuckled low in his chest, pupils dilating a little. “What a fucking shame indeed,” he purred, pressing close. They were literally almost there when there was a clearing of the throat from down the hall. They slowly looked up in surprise.

Nadia was at an intersection of the hall, hand up to her mouth, clearly on the verge of laughter. “You’re in the middle of the hall,” she pointed out softly, now in her soft, comfortable Palace wear. The two men broke apart, giving her awkward smiles. She clearly didn’t mind too much, as she just looked amused with her arms crossed. She shook her head and stepped to the side, gesturing with her head down the hall. “Go rest, you two. If I see you two before noon tomorrow, it will have been too soon.”

They started to shuffle off, but Lucio paused and looked at her. “Why… are you suddenly being so nice to me?” Her smile faded, arms falling to her side, and she looked at him with narrowing eyes. “Lucio, I-...” She paused and looked away, something on the tip of her tongue, but hard to say. It took another long moment before she took in a breath and looked around, clearly still unsure. “I… fuck, how do you say this…” Lucio was honestly taken aback, having never heard her curse like that before. At least, not without her being drunk or hyped up by friends. She hissed through her teeth, thinking and unsure how to continue before sighing heavily and turning to him. “I’m sorry.”

Lucio’s eyebrows attempted to become part of his hairline. “For what?” He asked, unsure and confused. Nadia gave him an apologetic look before taking a step forward and putting her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve acted like a child around you,” she admitted. “I’ve… refused to let  _ you _ move on when it was  _ me _ who hadn’t.” She looked away, down cast at her own actions. “I’ve been incredibly immature and needlessly cruel to you in a sick sense of… oh, how do you say it?” She bit her lip, thinking up the word, or at least attempting to. She still wasn’t sure, and remained silent an uncomfortable amount of time later.

“... Justice…?” Lucio offered quietly, bringing a hand up to one of her own shoulders. Nadia sighed heavily, slowly bobbing her head in a nod. “I do suppose that’s the best word,” she admitted, still looking stricken. Maybe even a little ill. “I… was not the greatest, and I should not have let my own hurt and pain affect how I treated you once you came back, and started making clear strides to become a better person.” She sighed heavily again, patting his shoulder. “I’m sorry that I have not done my job as Countess… I should be there to support  _ all _ of my citizens in becoming better people. And I failed with you on that. So,” she gave him an open and border line pleading look. “I’m sorry.”

Lucio wasn’t sure if he was honored or not. Mainly because, “where did this come from?” It obviously surprised her enough that she paused and blinked. “What?”

“Where did this come from?” He repeated, firmer this time. “Why  _ now? _ Why not  _ months ago? _ ” He felt something akin to  _ hurt _ burble up from his chest. “Why’re you just  _ now _ apologizing for being such a bitch? You’ve seen for the past few months how I’ve been working on me, stressing over the city, and you’ve always done this weird…” He made a frustrated gesture with his hands. “ _ Yo-yoing _ , I guess, with your emotions.” More gesturing as he swiped her hands off of him. “One second, you’re proud of me for helping with the city, the next, you’re treating me like dirt, and yet another, you’re berating me for shit I’ve done so far into the past that I can’t tell if that was the Devil or just normal loss of memory.” He glared at her. “So why now.”

She shrugged and shook her head, taking a step back. “I cannot just acknowledge my faults and accept you as a good man?” She attempted to accuse, though there was clearly something else there. Lucio  _ knew it _ . Like a knife to his gut. “No, because you could’ve done this at  _ any _ point in time.” He took a step forward pointing at her. “Why now.” Nadia just remained silent, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered, emotion cracking her voice. “You do know, though,” Lucio sneered, holding steadfast. “I don’t!”

“You  _ do! _ ”

They remained at a stalemate for a long while until it hit Lucio like a brick. He blinked rapidly as it dawned on him. “You’re only apologizing because of the return of the Plague…” He practically whispered, eyes wide and betrayed. Nadia blanched and looked away, holding a hand up to her face to keep herself quiet. All of a sudden, his passivity turned to rage. “You don’t actually  _ care _ ,” Lucio snarled. “You just don’t want to not try to make yourself feel better before I died!” His voice went high and squeaky, showing his rage in all its glory. It was one thing he hated about his voice, something he tried to keep down. Why he rarely got as angry as he did, otherwise, he sounded like an idiot (“Or a squeaky child,” one merc had joked, until he’d had his head cut off). “Tell me I’m wrong!” There was an edge of desperation. As if he was  _ begging her _ to say that he was wrong. And he was. He  _ wanted _ to be wrong.

Instead, she looked sharply away and bit her tongue, one hand falling to her side, the other coming up to hide her face. After a beat, she turned around, holding herself. Lucio watched in something akin to agony as she did, jaw dropped open, barely able to process. Once he had, however, he made the adult choice to start storming past her. “Fuck you, Nadia,” he seethed. “ _ Fuck you. _ ” He hissed out the last one, storming down the halls and managing to  _ not _ break anything instantly around him.

Julian started to follow, intent on keeping him from harming himself again. He was stopped, mid step, by Nadia’s hand clutching his arm. He slowly looked behind him, watching as she cried. “Please,  _ tell him _ ,” she whispered, voice cracking from emotion, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t behind him…” Instead of indulging her, being all soft and warm and buttery and kind, being what she was  _ seeking _ right then and there, he yanked his arm out of her grasp, glaring down at her. “Then you should’ve thought to do that before the recurrence of the Plague,” he snapped, brushing off his coat jacket before turning back down the hall Lucio had gone down, following the sounds of his footsteps, and ignoring the crying woman behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get this uploaded on the right day. My flight is ACTUALLY on Monday. So wish me luck, y'all! I'm goin' to Germany! But besides that, we're still truckin' away on this fanfic.


	22. A Rebound and a Miss

Julian felt like they’d been there before, with him sat in a large, comfortable chair, eyepatch off and coats over the back of the chair, Lucio in bed clothes, pacing like a mad dog in his chambers in front of him. The blond ranting and raving about something, though this time, it wasn’t taxes. It was Nadia. And “how could she  _ do this to me?! _ ”

“I don’t know,” Julian repeated for the umpteenth time, managing to not sound annoyed. “I wish I knew.” He watched as Lucio huffed and made like he was about to sit on his bed before suddenly stopping and turning to Julian. “Can I sit on your lap?” The red head sputtered at the request. “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“Can I sit on your lap?” Lucio repeated, not sounding annoyed at all, though he still rolled his eyes and cocked a hip. “It’s not a hard request, Julian.” He raised his hands. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine. No harm done.”

“No, no.” Julian held his arms out, gesturing to him to come closer. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Lucio eyed him for a second before shrugging and walking over, promptly sitting in Julian’s lap before kicking his feet up on the arm. Julian rolled his eyes as he braced Lucio’s back with his arm, practically holding the man now, as the blond continued to speak. “I’m just… I think I’m frustrated, is all,” he admitted, tapping his chin. “And mostly, why now? If I’m still carrying the Plague, why hasn’t it started sooner? I’ve been alive for almost a year now, why’s it been so long?”

Lucio… did prove a good point. It  _ had _ been a long time since he’d returned. Why  _ did _ it wait this long? “Unless the ship really  _ did _ bring them back, and you’re just now an amplifier,” Julian mused, tapping his chin and kicking his legs out. Lucio stiffened in his arms, clearly upset with that idea, throat bobbing with an audible swallow. Julian blanched and held him closer, realizing he’d fucked up. “Sorry, sorry… it’s just a theory,” he promised quickly, pressing Lucio’s head to his shoulder. “And we can’t exactly  _ test it _ , now, can we?” Julian felt Lucio nod, and forced himself to not just spew apologies for his dumb words.

They both remained silent for a bit longer, unsure how to deal with the revelation of Lucio being basically a… magnet for issues like this. There wasn’t much to say beyond that, not now. And Lucio… he still didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was sick. That the damned bug had bitten him. “Maybe…” Lucio tried, voice weak and strained. “Maybe this time, it’ll be better… easier…” He looked at Julian, a faint, bitter hope in his eyes, “not as deadly.” They both knew it was a lie. The Plague would eventually bring about the end of it all. Or, at least, of Vesuvia.

And once more, again in his life, he  _ really wished _ he could go back in time and beat the shit out of his younger self. What was he  _ thinking? _ He could’ve killed his father on his own  _ without _ that dumb deal. And his mother… Okay, now he couldn’t’ve killed her, he was no fool in that regard, but why did he think that she’d die that easily? He should’ve just killed his father in normal combat and then tried to go after his mother. Because either he would’ve killed her and won the tribe that way, or died something akin to a warrior.

Instead, he was about to die,  _ again _ , from an illness that was  _ entirely _ his fault. What a hellish world. He clung to Julian tighter, forcing down the small squeaks of sobs that tried to burble out. Instead, he just looked… blank and empty. Enough that Julian noticed and sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” Lucio wanted to argue, that he wasn’t a child that needed to be put to bed, that he was a grown man and capable of doing that his damned self, but he was too tired. So instead, he nodded and let Julian take care of him. For once, with no fuss.

He fully expected Julian to set him down and then leave to go get him something, but instead, the taller man sat down on the bed first, unlacing and pulling off his boots before laying back against the headboard and adjusting Lucio to lay on him. The blond had to admit, this was nice. And warm. And comfortable. And just comforting as a whole.

He shifted and got more comfy, both men hissing and giggling in equal measure at them occasionally putting a boney elbow or knee into a soft spot and then giggling at them both trying to get comfortable. It took a few moments, but they eventually figured it out, Lucio resting his head on Julian’s chest, Julian’s arms wrapped around him. They both let out happy sighs, exhaustions of the past few days creeping into their bones. Especially Lucio’s leg. He hissed at the feeling of it, lifting his leg and flexing it slowly, wincing as the muscles pulled. Julian watched him do this, making sure nothing was rupturing or something else equally bad. When no blood appeared, and Lucio wasn’t crying out in pain, he let his head tip back, eyes closing. “How does it feel?”

“Like I just got stabbed,” Lucio admitted bitterly, hissing again in pain before stopping, letting his leg curl up and hooking it over Julian’s. “Which, yanno… I kinda did.” Julian gave out a dark chuckle, hand raising to pet Lucio’s hair over and over, which the blond leaned into with a happy noise. “I shouldn’t’ve done that…”

“No, you shouldn’t’ve,” Julian agreed, gently pulling on Lucio’s hair before releasing. He was quite happy when the blond whined at it before letting his head drop back onto his chest, cheek smushed up against his collarbone. “But you did. And I’m here to clean up that mess.” Lucio gave a bitter chuckle, looking up and trying to kiss at Julian’s jaw. “And I appreciate you being here to clean up that mess,” he admitted softly, kissing his Adam’s apple. It bobbed against his mouth, and he couldn’t help himself as he pressed another soft kiss to it.

Julian flushed at that, from the tips of his ears down to his chest. A compliment? From Lucio? Be still his heart. And it wasn’t even a back handed one, either. It was brutal and blunt and true. Honestly, he  _ had _ to eventually get what happened in the Devil’s Realm out of Lucio, because this? This wasn’t anything at  _ all _ like the same man he was. This one he could stand. This one he could  _ love _ .

Wait a minute.

Oh no… Damnit, he wasn’t supposed to fall…

And yet he did. And he knew he did. Ages and ages ago. Was that already only a week ago? Fuck, it was. “Can you believe you bitching to me about taxes was only a week ago?” He breathed, staring up at the ceiling. Lucio stiffened as he thought, eyebrows furrowing. “... Oh my God, you’re right…” It was hard to believe. “What a week this has been,” Lucio muttered as he nuzzled up against Julian’s throat. “Feels like it’s been a year…”

“Or five months,” Julian agreed with a chuckle. Both men laughed softly at that before Lucio sighed. “Yanno… I dunno what I’d do without you,” he admitted softly.   
“Die, most likely,” Julian replied bluntly. Lucio looked up at him in surprise and a little horror, and Julian’s face twisted into one of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that.” It had just come out, and he honestly felt bad. But they both knew he was right. Lucio’s life had been saved over and over again by Julian. Where everyone else abandoned him and left him for dead, Julian (usually) came and bailed him out. Or, at least, was somewhat on his side. More so than anyone else. Still, Lucio sighed and looked away, over at the window that led out onto the balcony, still snuggled into Julian’s chest. “No. No, you’re right.”

Julian blinked rapidly for a second before looking down at Lucio. “You… what? I’m  _ right? _ ” Lucio snorted and looked back up at him, an eyebrow quirking up. “Of course you’re right. You tend to be, more so than me, at least.” Julian pressed the back of his hand against Lucio’s forehead, ignoring the indignant look he got. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re not sick?”

“I’m sure, Jules,” he grumped, crossing his arms and glaring at him. “Would I lie to you?” There was a beat of silence as Julian gave him an unamused look down, the words clear. “... Alright, I would, but would I lie to you about being sick?” Another long look.”Okay, can you please talk, your silence is  _ killing _ me.”

“I’ve talked,” Julian said sarcastically. Lucio didn’t have a reply to that. Instead, an awkward silence dropped over them, Lucio looking out the window and looking about ready to swallow his tongue. The silence was long enough that starting a conversation felt… wrong. So, he let it die. A brutal, cold death, while Lucio looked away, half tempted to run away from his problems again.

It was long enough that when Julian sighed, exhaustion clear in his voice, that Lucio started and about came out of his skin. He hadn’t entirely been expecting Julian to slip out from under him carefully and start to get off the bed. He squeaked and reached out an arm for him, watching him with horror. “Please don’t go, I’m sorry.” Julian ignored him, grabbing a boot and pulling it up and starting to lace it. Lucio watched as he did the same with the other boot before lunging for him, snagging his arm. “Please, I’m sorry, don’t go, don’t leave me.”

Julian wrenched his arm out of Lucio’s grasp before walking over to his coats and started to tug them on. “No, please don’t go, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that.” More silence from Julian as he finished with his jacket and threw his coat over his shoulders. “Jules, baby, please, no…” There was a short pause at the “baby”, but it was barely a second. Julian returned to marching out the door, purposefully not looking at Lucio as he headed to it. “Please!” Lucio’s voice cracked on that, really causing Julian pause, even as the door was halfway open. There was another, long pause before Lucio reached his hand out for him again, pleading. His voice shook and broke even more as he said, “don’t  _ leave me alone…! _ ”

Julian didn’t even fully look towards him before walking out of the room and closing the door. He didn’t slam it, and in fact, closed it quietly, letting the door click closed before pausing outside. Julian felt bad about leaving Lucio, especially in this state, but… He didn’t feel Lucio was really  _ getting _ anywhere. Or maybe that was just him falling into the same pitfalls of expecting the past as Nadia and Asra. In either case, he needed a drink. A long one.

And Lucio just… watched him go, hand falling to the bed once he was finally gone. He didn’t even move until he heard Julian’s footsteps disappear down the hall, the silence deafening. His feet swung over and off the bed, his head ringing with everything. It felt stuffed with cotton and yet like a swarm of a million bees were in his ears. It was dizzying and clarifying all at once. And all he knew was that he stood up and returned to his vanity, staring down at that dagger he had hidden behind the mirror. No one would come for him. Not yet, anyways.

So, he grabbed it, and returned to the bathroom. He couldn’t do the thigh again, Julian would be pissed and notice the injury was reopened. But what about… That could work. He threw off his shirt, took off his arm. He watched it fall to the ground with a clatter, the veins fading nearly instantly, the lines between blackened out and dull. It always felt weird to see it off him, but if he wanted to do this without Julian  _ really noticing, _ he had to take it off.

He stared at it for a few moments longer before taking in a deep breath and pressing the sharp blade of the dagger against where the scars on his amputation was. There was a pause before he shook his head and then slashed at the old scar. Now, taking the deals was  _ probably _ one of the worst decisions in his life. This beat that. Because not only was the  _ pain _ immeasurable, but it sent him  _ straight _ into a flash back filled panic attack.

He collapsed to the floor, barely a noise leaving his lips as he was forced to relive probably the worst time of his life.  _ Maybe I’ll remember it all this time, _ he thought half bitterly.  _ It’s no less than I deserve. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just as a warning, this is the last chapter to be uploaded at this time for y'all. It'll now probably be uploaded at 12-3 pm my time, so it'll be uploaded in the wee hours of the morning for y'all. But, this'll just mean y'all get to read on Saturday instead of Sunday.  
> Anyways, we're in quarantine, I had a Covid test (I came back negative, hurrah!), and now we sit for like, another 11 days. And I'm also debating what I wanna do with my hair, as I'm torn between young Lucio or normal Lucio, or if I wanna keep the shaggy undercut I have (as it's my main MC's hair style too). If y'all wanna help, give your ideas in the comments.  
> Thank you for reading, I hope y'all're doing fine!


	23. The Wars Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hella violence and gore. If you can't handle that, I put the TL;DR.
> 
> TL;DR  
> Montag was Captain, another man was named Lucio and he was the Commander, it's not so subtly implied they were a Thing, Montag meets Ilya and goes, "Ooo, I wanna tap that", battle happens, Lucio dies, Montag leads the charge, left arm gets super fucked up in battle, Ilya saves him, Montag (now renamed Lucio) was a dick to him, Lucio gives speech to soldiers, searches out Aisha and Salim for his new arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not joking. HUGE trigger warning. If you cannot deal with war violence or gore, don't read. The TL;DR sums it up, and that's all you need to know if you cannot handle these.
> 
> If you're still going to continue, I will say, there is some Russian in this real quick, and I used Google translate. If it's not accurate, I'm so sorry, it's Google translate. I don't speak Russian.

He woke up. The cot under him was hard and annoying and Godfuckingdamnit, he was second in command of this army, why in the _hells_ was he delegated to this shit? The men around him snored, peacefully unaware of the Captain’s struggles with staying asleep. Montag sneered as he sat up and flung his legs over the side of the bed, rolling his shoulders. Today was the day. The day he’d _really_ make a name for himself. The Mercenary War was almost to it’s close. They would win today. Him and Lucio. They’d do this.

He was quick to get dressed, practically throwing on his armor before marching out before everyone else awoke to wake their Commander up. The early morning air was crisp and fresh and honestly very nice against his flushed skin. He ducked under a few awnings and some weapons that drooped to the side where they rested, waving to the few, older soldiers who were already up. Most waved back, though a few sneered and looked away. Montag forced himself to not take it too personally.

It really _wasn’t_ personal. Many of them were just pissed and annoyed (honestly, kind of rightfully so) that he’d gotten Captain, second in command, before them. Many of these had been with Lucio during the last few Wars, so their anger and contempt was understandable. Still, he brushed it off and continued further into camp, towards their Commander’s tent. There were a few guards there, a night crew to watch over him, make sure no assassins got by. Montag gave a curt nod to them before ducking inside the tent, and looking upon the man that was Lucio.

Tha man honestly looked borderline fragile, with how tall and gangly he was. But one could easily see the power that rippled under his skin from his muscles, especially now as he was getting dressed in his finest armor. Montag leaned against a log that held the tent up near the door, watching with deep appreciation. He didn’t need to tell some of the… _older_ members how he got this position in part, now did he? Still, he was a pretty sight. No one could deny that, even as Lucio turned around and gave him a loud greeting. Montag pushed off from the pole and stepped closer to him, smiling warmly and crossing his arms. “Hello, Commander,” he greeted warmly.

“Good morning, Montag! Wonderful morning, isn’t it?” He greeted, grinning widely. “Are you excited for today?” He asked, looking his captain over and frowning. “Where’s your armor?” He spun Montag around, inspecting his outfit before glaring at him. “Montag! You know better!” He pointed to the door of the tent. “Go put your armor on at once! Just wearing a pauldron isn’t going to help you at all,” he snapped, sounding annoyed.

Montag rolled his eyes and gave Lucio a friendly smile. “Come _on_ , Commander, I’m _fine._ ” He winked at him, grinning. “It’s not like I’ve gotten hurt in battle before, I highly doubt I’ll start now,” he teased, rolling his left shoulder, where the brass stood gleaming on his shoulder, pointy and dangerous. “Don’t worry about me so much, Lucio.” He lightly punched his arm, watching as his Commander snorted in light laughter back before wrapping an arm around his waist and dragging him close. “And when we get back,” Lucio breathed, “I cannot _wait_ to celebrate with my Captain.” Montag giggled at that before slithering out of his Commander’s grip, already leaving. “I’ll see you soon then, _Commander_ ,” he purred in goodbye.

He swaggered through the camp, saying hello to some of the slowly waking soldiers. Many of them just grunted in return, though a few were awake and alive enough to greet him with proper “hello”s. He didn’t begrudge any of the ones that didn’t say hello. They were tired. Many probably slept worse than him, given the anxiety around this battle. If all went well, this would be the last one they fought for… a while. At least, against other mercenaries. It left a spring in Montag’s step. He practically skipped through the camp, sighing softly before entering into the kitchen. It was already warm and food was cooking. He shivered as he stepped inside, letting the tent’s fold flap shut behind him, nearly darting over to a stove with a chair nearby, planting his ass in said stool and trying to heat up.

The head cook walked over and snickered at him, lightly kicking his boot. “Come on, lazy ass, get up,” he teased, even as he walked away to continue working. Montag knew this game, and gave him an equally playful sneer. “And why should I do that?” The cook sneered before throwing a potato at him. Montag caught it in mid-air, hissing at the heat and tossing it between his hands before popping it into his mouth and sighing. Given his silence, the cook took that he’d done his job well, as always. It was still satisfying, even after these years.

Montag continued to sit by the fire, warming himself before the heat of battle, eyes distant. He was already thinking up battle plans for when he and Lucio split up, going off of what he _hoped_ was up to date information on their enemy. They didn’t have anything _too_ special, thank God, but he was also sure that they would have a couple new tricks up their sleeves. It was their enemy, another mercenary crew. One that was just as well, maybe even a bit more, known for their hits and jobs. It made Montag… wary. Not worried, but wary. Cautious. He didn’t want to lose more than he had to.

He _certainly_ didn’t want to lose Lucio. Much as he hated to admit it, that man kept him sane. He knew he had a nasty habit of… Flying off the handle. Getting too excited and rushing into things without even a second thought. His deals were reminders of that. He held his hand to his chest, feeling the chains of them constrict in reminder. He still distantly regretted the deal he made. For youth near everlasting. It wasn’t his best choice, but he had to make it, he supposed.

He had been so busy in his mind that he nearly rammed into the back of a horse, only stopping a few _inches_ from doing so. The horse, and his rider, huffed in annoyance at him, trotting away and shaking their heads. Montag couldn’t blame him. He was having more… distant moments. Especially when it came to delving into memories. He shook himself, resolving to not do that for the remainder of the day. At least, until he went to bed that night. He let his feet guide him, dodging around people and carts and tents and some horses until he came to where their hired doctors resided.

There were two, if memory served. One from the Prakran royal family, which, to be honest, _still_ confused him, and the other, their apprentice. A former pirate, of all things. Lucio shook his head as he forced down his doubts. He’d meet with them before the battle, make sure they were all set and ready for the long day (maybe _days_ ) ahead of them all. He pushed through the flaps and into the medical tent, surprised to see tables set up, all with smaller trays of different surgical equipment. At least, he _guessed_ that’s what it was. He’d never seen knives nor saws like that, and in truth, it unnerved him. Still, he shoved that down as well, and looked around.

When no one appeared, he called out. “Hello? Anyone home?” There was a ruckus in the room nearby, directly to his left, and he turned. To his surprise, the younger of the two doctors came stumbling out, as pathetic as a colt.

He was tall, taller than Montag by a solid half a foot, and, if the blond were brutally honest, he was _adorable_ . His eyes were storm gray with occasional flashes of… pink in them. _Pink_ , of all colors. He would’ve thought that tall of a man would have eyes tinged with blue, not with the painfully soft pink that was in them. And, well, if Montag swooned, only he really knew.

“O-oh, hello.” If Montag focused enough, he could tell that was a Nevivon accent. What sort of lanky, red-head from Nevivon was doing all the way over in the Great Gate? The hell? He ignored it and looked up at him, smiling as welcomingly as he could. “Hello. I was just looking to see who our medical staff was,” he explained simply, trying to make his appraising of the man less obvious. It was still clear, it seemed, given the bright red the man turned and oh, Montag just wanted to make that man _scream_ for him. That blush was _adorable_. Endlessly precious. Still, he forced down his attraction to look him over in a much more military, observational light.

He was strong, he could tell that already. Awkward occasionally, but with how broad he was, and how thick his legs and arms were, he had probably been doing physical work for a while. After a beat, he noticed that the man wasn’t wearing gloves, and Montag could see the calluses on them, and given how they were formed, he’d been a ship hand. Interesting. He didn’t have long to muse over it, as their older medical provider came out, looking bemused. Upon spotting him, they smiled. “Hello Captain,” they greeted warmly, holding out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” Montag took the hand and shook it. “Doctor.”

“It’s great to meet one of the men who’s going to be leading the charge,” they said warmly, though, if he looked under it, he could still tell a little bit of hesitation. They didn’t want this fight to happen, not that he could blame them. Medical professionals hated these kinds of things, if only for the wounds they left, and how hard they had to work. Still, he took it positively, nodding and giving as good of a smile as he could. “With any luck, it’ll be a short battle.”

“I hope so.” They released each other's hands, the older looking at the younger expectantly. “Ilya, c’mon. We have to finish preparations.” The man flushed and nodded, looking embarrassed. “Yes, of course.” He gave Montag an awkward wave before starting to follow his mentor back into the room they just came from, probably some type of operating theater, if Montag had to guess. He waved back, giving a flirty wink and equally flirty, “see you later, Ilya.” That flush got redder, Ilya’s face bewildered before he ducked into the room, and away from Montag’s gaze.

The blond laughed openly at that, turning and leaving the tent. Oh, he was too much fun. He was going to enjoy talking to him after the battle, and _maybe_ getting into his pants. Once the battle had gone their way. He swaggered through the camp, watching as his soldiers woke up slowly, and equally slowly trickled out and started to get ready. Some went to eat first, others worked on getting their armor on, and yet some others were finishing preparing their weapons. Yes, today was going to be a good day for them.

Most soldiers were too out of it to say hello, or even nod. Normally, he’d take a bit of offense, but this time? He couldn’t bring himself to care. They were probably just as tired as he was. This was going to be a long day, if he were honest with himself. A short battle, but a long day. Because it wasn’t _just_ the battle. It was the prep before hand, the dealing with the fall out afterwards. Battles weren’t just a one and done thing. He was already preparing himself mentally for how he was going to get better lodging for those that remained. It’d have to be good. Maybe he’d buy out a couple of inns in the next over town. Put all of them up in there for a week or two solid, give the men a break. They’d long since earned it.

He walked into the mess tent, still deep in thought as he sat down at the head table, waiting for food to be delivered. It was a second later, and he started to eat, still thinking of the price of the inns. Depending on how many, it’d be a pretty coin, or maybe they could ask the Mayor of that town. See what they could do. Hopefully, they’d appreciate what they’d done and give them a discount. Even just a night free, he’d take. He was so busy, lost in his head, that he honestly jumped when Lucio sat down in his chair beside him, grinning at his Captain. “Montag! Good morning!” He greeted again, this time for the masses. Montag greeted him with a smile and half salute, returning to his food. Lucio frowned, leaning towards him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Montag replied. “I’m fine. Just trying to form a plan for _after_ this battle,” he explained, drumming his fingers on the table. Lucio seemed to deem that decent enough, patting his shoulder before standing up. Everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing and looked up at him, a lot of the younger troops’ eyes wide with awe.

Montag had to force himself to not wince and watch them with sadness. He knew what that was like. It’d end up getting them killed, trying to play some twisted form of hero. Maybe after the battle, with those that remained, he’d have a talk with them. Keep their heads on straight. He didn’t want to lose any more kids than they already were.

“My soldiers,” Lucio greeted, voice booming through the mess tent like his voice was a wave of thunder. “Today, we shall have a glorious day! Our enemies shall fall, destroyed by our might and power and intellect!” Montag didn’t have the heart to tell him might and power meant the same thing. “And once we are done with this, we shall go and, I don’t know,” he laughed, relaxing a little, “go fuck some broads or something.” The rest of the men laughed with him as Lucio sat down, giving his Captain a grin.

Montag smiled back, forcing himself not to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Lucio was all talk, though he did have a fairly vicious bite, too. Problem was, he tended to boast a bit too much, giving his enemies time to strike him. Montag had saved his ass more than either man cared to admit. Though, it didn’t bother him _too_ much. It just meant that they trusted each other. He hoped. Still, he managed to keep his smile and not choke on his eggs as Lucio put his hand on his leg, tapping it thrice. _Later._ That usually meant well, when they were done with the battle, it usually meant that Montag was about to get railed. Which was… okay, for once in his tenure with Lucio, Montag was _disappointed_ . He didn’t _want_ to get railed, he wanted to _be_ the one railing. More specifically, that cute red-head he’d met just an hour earlier. Oh well. This would be Lucio’s last battle, no matter the outcome, so it didn’t bother him too much. Maybe afterwards, he’d kill the man. Clear up any loose ends. Make people think he was corrupt and evil…

He continued to think throughout the rest of breakfast, too busy in his mind to focus on really anything else around him.

Nearly three hours had passed since breakfast. The two doctors were on standby, watching worriedly from their tent. Well, one worriedly. The younger one, those silver eyes watching over the battlefield like a panicking foal. The older one, who’s hair was striped with white, Montag just noticed, watched it silently. Not laid back, but not in a panic like their protege. Montag risked a wave at the younger, hoping he didn’t look like two much of an idiot. It paid off, as Ilya flushed and waved back awkwardly, which brought Montag unending amounts of joy.

Instead of pausing to go and talk to him, like he wanted to, he followed Lucio, hot on his heels. There was a large, slanted rock formation on their side of the battlefield, perfect for looking out over it. Lucio marched straight up it, Montag following quickly. Once at the top, Lucio grinned, looking at the solid lines upon lines of their enemies, pointing directly ahead. “Look at them. Lined up like pigs to slaughter,” he sneered, looking at Montag with excitement and pride in his eyes. “We’ll kill them all, and _prove_ who’s the best mercenaries this side of the Gate.” He grabbed Montag’s shoulder and shook it before turning to his troops. “My fellow soldiers!” He yelled, voice echoing once more like thunder across the heads of his men. “We stand upon our battlefield. Of greatest importance!”

Montag droned out most of the long speech, instead, watching Lucio do his whole spiel. It was honestly endearing, in a weird way, how excited he was about this. Montag supposed that he should’ve been paying attention to the battlefield, having completely missed their enemies rolling something to the forefront of their lines. He didn’t care, believing it was nothing.

He really wished he had.

Lucio’s grin was infectious as he yelled, “Men! Are you with me?!” The soldiers replied back with a loud cacophony of agreement, loud and borderline angry. After riling them up a bit more, he turned to Montag, a grin still on his face. “Are you with me, Montag?” The blond grinned at him, replying back “‘til the bitter end,” just as the crack of a cannon sounded. Everything suddenly slowed down.

And the cannon hit it’s mark perfectly.

The ball collided with the side of Lucio’s head, peeling it off like one peeled off a sunburn. The neck snapped and there wasn’t a sound from Lucio as he died, one that was fairly quick yet painful.

The ball and head slammed back into their crowd of soldiers, killing another fifteen or so, bouncing into some before finally stopping. There was a deafening silence as Montag watched, with endless horror, as the headless body collapsed, spurting blood and oozing something else. He didn’t have time to process what though as he unsheathed his sword, left hand forward, and pointed at the enemy. “Destroy them!”

His side lunged forward, silent in their determination, weapons at the ready, the first line of halberds and polearms pointing forward, shields in front of them.

No one was there to see Montag shed a single tear.

He had lost track of time. Long since lost track of time. Exhaustion slammed through most of his being, though his left arm was in such agony that it was a numb. He could barely feel it, could barely move it. If he looked over at it, he was certain those little white, hard bits weren’t just the bones of his enemies, but his own, poking out through skin and torn fabric. He refused to believe it, for his own sanity.

He searched frantically around the blood soaked, churned ground for an enemy, though there were so many bodies, both alive and still fighting and long since dead, that he could barely tell. Colors blended together in a horrifying canvas of death and needless bloodshed. Montag could feel himself crying, if only from pain, and he barely heard the grunting cries of an axeman coming at him. He yelped and dodged the huge man swinging an equally huge axe down at his head, even as his left side hit the side of the weapon, leaving him shrieking in pain.

Both men acessed each other before the axeman yanked his weapon from the ground, and took a stance. Montag followed him in getting ready to fight, raising his sword. The axeman screamed and charged, swinging for his head again. Montag ducked under him, noting the clear opening. He took it, plunging his side sword deep into the man’s chest, hoping to aim for the heart, both hands on the handle to make sure it went through. The large man gurgled over him, gasping in surprise before stepping back. Montag left his sword in him, taking his own steps back and heaving for breath. Everything hurt. Everything felt distant. He stumbled backwards, falling over a dead body, head hitting the heavy plating of another one just behind him. His skull cracked against it, blurring out the world around Montag.

He still scrambled back, watching in horror as the man he’d _just run through_ trundled forward, raising his axe for something that would clearly be both of their last kills before there was a scream of horror somewhere behind Montag, and two knives whizzed through the air. The first one went through the man’s sternum with a sickening crunch, and the other straight through his skull, between his eyes. Or, well, more accurately, the bridge of his nose. He stumbled backwards for a step before fully falling, dead before he even hit the ground.

Montag could only stare at the corpse, somewhere between awe and horror before strong arms were yanking him back, scrambling to get a hold on his chest from the blood. “Черт побери, сукин сын, черт возьми, иди сюда...!” Montag didn’t even fully register who it was until he was lifted up into a bridal carry into… Ilya’s arms.

The red-head looked around the battlefield wildly, checking to make sure they were safe, before booking it. Those long legs came into work here, carrying them over dead and dying bodies, with most of the fighting happening away from them now. Occasionally, a dying man would hold up a hand, begging for help, but there was no way they could be saved, and Ilya wouldn’t even stop in his running. Montag occasionally opened his mouth to speak, that was one of _his_ soldiers, they needed to save them, but then Ilya would hit a down movement and jostle his arm and it took all he had in him to not scream and beg for death.

It took forever and only a second to reach the medical tent, where every single bed in the main rooms were already filled, most with people who’d survived. And it seemed that whatever soldiers that had survived and were in decent shape and were upright were conscripted into helping with the others, some of whom Montag recognized as the older ones, or those with some medical training. They were doing what they could, sewing up people, putting pressure on, or holding some soldiers down. Many of his men just laid there, injured, dying, or dead.

He swallowed down his terror as Ilya carried him into another room, the same room Montag had seen him and his teacher come out of earlier. Lo and behold, they were in there, cleaning off some medical supplies as best as they could. The second they entered into the room, they quit that endevor and dashed over to them, helping Ilya set him down on the table, saying something that was drowned out by the fuzzy buzzing in his skull. There was an argument, given how they both grew angry and yelled at each other until Ilya slammed his hand on the table and demanded something of his mentor. The older person blinked in surprise, slowly processing, before nodding and turning back towards the supplies, pulling out… something.

Montag didn’t know what it was. It had a long, thin, needle-like spike sticking out of a glass container, a plunger on the other side. They injected the needle into a small vial, sucking out whatever was in there before pulling it out and pointing the needle to the sky. They flicked the side of it, getting a little out until a small drop slid down the side of the needle. Montag felt himself blanch in terror, starting to skitter back. It was only Ilya’s arms holding him there that he didn’t fall off the table.

He babbled and pleaded, eventually screaming for them to not touch him with that. He didn’t trust it, he didn’t know what it was, it was long and pointy and clearly bad, even as Ilya held down the rest of his body and his mentor grabbed his right arm, needle in their mouth as they pulled off the tattered remains of the sleeve. They grabbed the needle again, holding onto Montag’s thrashing arm, before stabbing into his arm. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but there was an odd sensation of the liquid inside it being injected. _Like a stinger_ , he thought distantly.

Ilya and his mentor counted down before releasing him, Montag trying to get up and make a break for it. But he found out quickly that his legs suddenly didn’t work. And everything didn’t hurt. It all felt numb. He tried to squawk in surprise, but found himself only slurring. He tried to curse at them, but he sounded exhausted, and suddenly, he was, eyes drooping. “Wha’ di’... wha’ di’ ya…?” He tried, suddenly back into Ilya’s strong arms (which he pet in wonder, appreciating the muscle under the thick fabric).

“Anesthesia,” the mentor explained as Ilya heaved him back up onto the table. He laid down somewhat willingly, staring up at the tent’s ceiling. “Oh… ‘m feelin’ sleepy,” Montag babbled. Both doctors obviously relaxed, Ilya letting out a sigh of relief. “‘m gonna ta’e a nap now…”

“You do that,” the mentor said, voice thick with amusement. Both doctors looked down at him with soft, amused smiles. “Goodnight, Captain,” the older one said as he started to black out, Ilya already turning to grab something from behind his mentor. “Goo’nigh’ doc…”

Montag woke up slowly, feeling like he was a million miles away. His left arm… didn’t hurt, surprisingly, but the sheets were brought up to his neck, which he found odd. Still, he didn’t hurt at all. He smiled softly, relishing in the feeling as he went back to sleep

When he woke up the next time, it wasn’t as nice. His chest hurt a lot. It felt like he had broken something, and he probably had. At least fractured a little. Maybe sprained something. Still, there was the sound of paper and when he turned, Ilya was there, sitting in a chair nearby. Wait, this wasn’t his… Montag looked around, realizing with something akin to slow growing horror that this was Lucio’s room… his room, now, he supposed. It left an ache in his chest, and he shimmied further into the sheets, the soft silks running up against the stump where his left arm would be.

Wait.

He sat up like he’d been shocked, eyes wide with horror. Ilya turned slowly, face already halfway to apologetic. “Good morning, Commander.” _Commander_. Montag already hated the word with a passion. But it caught him off guard enough that he stared at Ilya. “Where am I. What happened.”

Ilya went pale before looking at the ground. “The former Commander Lucio is dead. You were injured. I saved you.” It was said so simply, so casually, but there was a clear exhaustion and sadness lurking under it. “And you are the new Commander, Commander…?” Ilya paused, waiting for Montag to put in his name.

He opened his mouth to reply _with_ Montag, but paused. Would that name even fit him anymore…? Lucio had never fully liked his name, but Montag _had_. Enough that, “Lucio.” Ilya blinked in surprise. “Your name is also-”

“Lucio, yes.” He forced himself to remain calm, and he could tell that Ilya was too. But Montag could see beneath the forced calm. He was terrified, he was tired, he was endlessly sad. The bags under his eyes and the gauntness in his cheeks told how little sleep and food he’d been getting, and normally, Montag would be understanding, even sympathetic.

But not now. Not as he moved his shoulder and felt the lack of his left arm again, burning a new raging fire in his chest.

“You removed… my _arm…!_ ” He hissed, voice cracking at arm. “It’s gone…! It was _fine!_ ” Ilya raised his hands, already starting to move closer to him. “It wasn’t fine. Trust me, I tried to save it. But with how broken the bone was, and the amount of arteries and veins that were injured-”

“I don’t care!” Montag screamed, pounding his right fist on the bed. “You could’ve saved it!” He moved like he was going to get out of bed, sliding his legs over the side of the bed, throwing the sheet off. Ilya was nearly instantly by his side, his mentor entering in just in time to see this scene. “Commander, _please._ ” Ilya grabbed Montag’s remaining arm and held onto the other side of his chest, trying to keep him from getting up. “You’re injured, you need rest…!”

“I don’t care!” He repeated, trying to throw Ilya off and only succeeding in collapsing to the floor. He laid back against the bed, sobbing suddenly. “Damn you, Ilya…” It sounded weak to his own ears, even as the red-head knelt down beside him, eyes painfully soft and empathetic. No, not empathetic. _Pitying._ That pissed Montag off more than the arm.

Montag, Lucio, whatever, snarled at him, trying to hit him in some way, annoyed when the man dodged back, watching him silently. The blond swore out at him, snarling and spitting cusses and curses at him, blind with rage. His mentor came up behind him, Ilya looking up in surprise when they put their hands on his shoulders. Those magenta eyes watched him with chilly calm, theirs unwavering. “Commander,” they said slowly, “you need to rest.”

“Fuck you!” He shouted back, snagging something from the nightstand nearby and throwing it at them, successfully hitting a fairly cowering Ilya. “Fuck you both, fuck you all!” He took in deep, ragged breaths before bringing his legs up and wrapping his remaining arm around it. “Get the fuck out…”

Ilya rose to his feet, looking to his mentor for guidance. They didn’t even blink at Lucio’s quick temper tantrum, instead nodding. “As you wish. Your men will be expecting an address at dawn.” With that, they started to walk out. Ilya paused for a long moment before following. Lucio snagged another thing that had fallen at some point and threw it towards the direction of the door, angry when it didn’t hit anything but dirt.

He remained like that, arm still out stretched for it to hit something, for a long while. Eventually, it fell to the bed as what just happened, the amputation, how he acted, the fact that he’d now have to address his _troops_ , _his_ troops, slowly dawned on him. He felt broken inside, curling up and sobbing into his knees, grief hitting him like a tidal wave. Everything went wrong. How could this have happened?

He trudged out of his tent the next morning, bitter and tired and limping. He’d apparently sprained his ankle at some point in the battle, and now he did a slow, almost death march through camp, looking over it. It felt dead, as opposed to the excitement it had been just yesterday. It hurt him, deep in his chest.

As he walked through camp, he watched as whatever remained of his troops slowly got up and followed him to the center of camp. A few older soldiers were there, and no one was talking. He walked around the fireplace, to a point where he could be seen by all his men. _His_ men. He swallowed down the bile. Instead, once he was on the other side of the clearing, he turned to them, and waited until the shuffling died down. Of the nearly two _thousand_ men they’d accrued during their years, it seemed only about two hundred or so survived. Maybe three or four hundred, if there were more that had already left or were so injured they could not leave their tents yet.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Lucio raised his voice. “We,” he paused, unsure what to say. “...didn’t win,” he settled on, his grief seeping through his words. His troops’ already abysmal mood fell. “But the other side didn’t win, according to what I was told. This fight… this war…” He shook his head, forcing down his emotion. “It ended badly for both sides. But we survived.” Those that remained perked up, nodding. Now, Montag thought, time to put those stupid, mental notes of the last Lucio’s speeches to good use.

“We survived to fight another day. The strongest, wisest, more vicious of us survived! So that we can fight!” His troops were really perking up now, some even smiling. Lucio paced and gestured widely with his remaining arm, a smile forming on his face as well. “We can live to fight another day! For our fallen brethren!”

“Yea!” A few jangled weapons.

“For our future brethren!”

“Yea!”

He stopped and turned to them, voice growing darker than the hour before midnight, sharper than his sword. “For _slaughtering_ those that dare stand in our way forever more!” You would’ve thought another cannon went off with the sudden commotion of noise that escaped his men, screaming and whooping and hollering their agreement.

Lucio basked in it, even as he physically ached so bad that he wanted to collapse into the dirt and never get up, even as he hurt so deep in his soul it made his chest ache and his stomach clench, even as he could feel the tears stop right behind his eyes. Even as the urge to grieve all that he had lost nearly overwhelmed him.

Instead, he grinned, clenching his fist and shaking it. “Then we’ll show those remaining mercs who they’re dealing with! We’ll give them time to lick their wounds from this battle, but once we’re back in the game?” He pointed to them, grinning like he’d lost his mind. “We’ll tear them apart!” 

His soldiers agreed just as loud as before, maybe even louder, echoing around them. After a beat of this they started to break off to go tell the others and maybe go rest, or get food. Lucio watched them go, proud, turning to look at the medical tent, and deep down, he wanted to vomit at what he saw.

Ilya and his mentor watched, silently. His mentor watched, feet planted, arms crossed, with barely disguised horror on their face, clearly in something akin to shock. Ilya, however, made no such attempts to hide his horror, looking on the verge of screaming.

Instead of maybe calming down, frowning, or even looking a bit sorrowful like what his heart was telling him to do, Lucio grinned wider and bowed, clearly making a show of it all. When he stood, both doctors were gone, the flap to their tent swishing.

He would regret that day for the rest of his life. He just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter. Was so hard to write. I disliked the idea of writing this chapter from the get go, as I knew this would be a HAVE TO WRITE chapter since before I even started WRITING this fic, if that gives you an idea.  
> In all honesty, I both love and hate this chapter. Love because it gives important context, it fills in some holes with my HC for what happened to Lucio, and all that other kind of thing. But I hate it because it's just... it's so horrible what happens. It's how I feel about Valdemar, for example. As a person, I H A T E them. But as a character? The way they're written and designed in game? Fucking master class, top tier, 9/10 (only a 9 because I want to see their demon form, damnit). That explains how I feel about this chapter. I love it for what it does, but I hate it. Just as much.
> 
> Ten pages of pain. And we aren't even out of the wood work on angst yet.


	24. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter before we return to Julian's POV for a while.

Lucio woke up with a deep ache in his side, and his head screaming at him. He regretted life, he decided, right arm coming up to hold the side of his head. He groaned as he slowly sat up, surprised to not see the delicate silks of his bedroom. Instead, it was heavier cottons, and honestly, he liked these more.

Everything was in rich, warm jewel colors, the ceiling positively  _ dripping _ with crystals and silks hung from it. It was clearly not his room. The sheets were of cotton, not of silk, and he honestly preferred it, partway sinking into the sheets, and partway sitting up. He looked around the room, seeing lanterns and decorations and general prettiness all over the room. Not the same campy and gaudy he usually shoved himself into. Maybe he should add more pretty, balance it out. Make it more… not palettable, but more  _ interesting _ . Yea, that would work better.

Still, he was so busy inspecting that he didn’t realize there was clanging outside until there was a particularly loud hit. He nearly came out of his skin, brain still fuzzy and foggy from the dream. Nightmare? Flashback? He hadn’t had one of those in a while. Especially not to  _ that _ fight. He lifted his right arm to the stump and held it, hunching over himself and urging himself not to cry. 

It was somewhat successful, leaving him wheezing in the bed, curled in on himself, as if trying to cease existing. He knew he wouldn’t be successful, but God, did he try. It was a long moment before he felt a slithering thing slide against his leg, nearly sending him leaping out of bed, until a tiny head popped up. He let out a gasp of relief, hand over his heart. “Oh, it’s just you, Faust,” he breathed down at the small blue snake. She simply flicked her tongue out at him. He glared at her, now a little annoyed. “Don’t  _ do that _ . You scared me!”

“Sorry,” she said, tilting her head to look apologetic. “Didn’t mean to startle.” He sighed and nodded, holding his hand out for her, which she butted up against. “I know… Just warn me next time.” He rubbed over her head, chuckling softly as she nudged against his hand before sliding up over his arm. “Goat sad,” she cooed. “Why goat sad?” She turned to his stump, the bandages on it barely seeping red at the bottom. “Why goat hurt?” Her voice sounded more high pitched, worried. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Faust.”

“Goat hurt! By Asra!” She hissed, even going so far as to strike at his finger, not intending to hurt him. He still hissed in surprise, shaking his hand before glaring at her. “It wasn’t  _ by _ Asra,” he snapped, looking at his finger. “I mean, he didn’t  _ help _ but it wasn’t only  _ by _ Asra.” If a snake could give him an annoyed, borderline pissed off look, Faust was doing it. Enough that Lucio flinched away and looked away. There was a long minute of Faust glaring at him and Lucio looking away before Lucio heaved a sigh and deflated. “Yes. Goat hurt by Asra,” he conceded, holding his hand out to her. She sniffed at it again before bumping against it. She slithered up it before wrapping around his wrist and starting to slowly spiral up.

He was so focused on her that he didn’t even notice the other two snakes slithering down from seemingly nowhere, until one of them bumped a cold nose up against his thigh. He shrieked again before going stock still, afraid that  _ whatever _ it was would bite him. The nose moved up, slowly, before a small, flat orange head poked up, staring at him with lavender eyes. His breath started to slow as he realized it wasn’t an active threat. “O-oh… hello,” he greeted awkwardly, watching the snake with intense apprehension. The snake simply flicked it’s tongue out at him as the sheets beside it shuffled, and another head, this time purple with gold eyes, popped out, also flicking its tongue. He felt a little nauseous at seeing the snakes, surprised there were more of them.

Suddenly, Aisha burst into the room, glaring at the bed. “Chimes! Flamel!” She scolded, storming up and standing at the bedside, arms crossed and glaring at the two new snakes. “What did I tell you about bothering him?” Both snakes had the grace to look ashamed, the orange one even going so far as to slither over his lap (making Lucio realize with a jolt that he wasn’t wearing pants) and stretch out towards her in apology.

Aisha looked annoyed for a second longer before sighing and holding her hands out for the snake to slither into. It did happily, coiling up in her hands before wrapping contently around her arm. She gave Lucio an apologetic look, eyes focusing on Faust, now wrapped around his shoulders, for a second before back to him. “I’m sorry about that… I know being woken up by cold snake nose is not a good way to start the morning.” She chuckled in understanding, hands on her hips. “How did you sleep otherwise?”

“Honestly?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning over and resting his weight on his arm. “Like shit.” He let his head drop, back arching and popping a little as he did, leaving him gasping in surprise. “I had a nightmare.”

“I’m sure,” she said flatly, returning to that annoyed motherly tone. “You were tossing and turning all night.” Her face softened the tiniest bit. “You were also making some rather pitiful noises. Like you were…” She stopped and shook her head, her arms crossing again. “Nevermind…” She gave him a soft smile after a beat, sitting down on the side of the bed towards him. “How do you feel now?”

He shrugged and rolled his left shoulder, right hand running over the end of the stump. “I feel… like shit, honestly,” he admitted wryly. “Like I just got run over by a horse…” Being run over by a horse may’ve been more comfortable, actually. Aisha frowned at him touching his arm, gently swatting his hand away, though he still hissed a small, “ow” at it. After a beat, he looked up at her, mostly confused. “Why am I here? Who brought me here?”

“Chimes and Flamel smelled blood,” she admitted, petting the head of the snake now around her shoulders. It flicked out its tongue, staring at him. She gave it a soft look before turning back to him. “Salim and I burst into your bathroom to see you bleeding on the floor.” She shuddered at the memory. She didn’t even fully remember what they had been going for. Food, most likely. And then the snakes had started panicking and demanding entrance into Lucio’s room, and they’d opened the doors, and… She would even admit, even a year ago, she would’ve  _ paid _ to see Lucio bleeding on the floor, maybe even relished in it. But now? The image had nearly sent Salim and her into a panic attack, the sudden fear of him dying or being extremely hurt enough that they both had forgotten all he’d done to them.

She took in another deep breath and let it out, giving him a shaky smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay, even though,” her glare returned, now directed at him, “that was insanely stupid what you did.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Taking off your arm to cut yourself there, what were you thinking?” She gestured angrily and glared at him. “That could’ve ended in you dying from shock!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t think that’s how that works,” he said dubiously. She huffed in annoyance, knowing he was right, but still wanting to be a  _ bit _ dramatic. Just as she opened her mouth to complain and bitch at him some more (like a true mother, Lucio realized distantly), Salim stuck his head in, eyes wide. “Am I… interrupting something…?” He asked, a playful tone underneath his seem curiosity. Aisha sighed and shook her head, annoyance fading from her for the most part. “No, not really.”

“She’s bitching at me like a mother,” Lucio muttered petulantly, though he was half teasing. She snorted and rolled her eyes, giving him the most impressive, unimpressed look he’d seen outside his own mother. “I  _ am _ a mother. One of whom of the child you took them away from.” Lucio felt himself pale and looked away, suddenly re-reminded of the pains he’d caused. There was an uncomfortable silence that was suddenly cast over the room, a bit too harsh and too soon of words said on Aisha’s part. There was a long moment before she stood up, murmured something to Salim, and walked out.

Salim sat on the other side of the bed, silent for a long minute. He didn’t even really move after he’d sat down, until murmuring softly, “you know she didn’t mean it like that, right?” His eyes darted over to the blond, as if worried he’d yell at him or something. Lucio sighed and nodded, still curling in on himself. “I know… but it’s too much, too soon.” Salim nodded and sat up more comfortably on the bed. “I know… I’m sorry, I think she forgot herself,” he admitted with a sigh.

Another long beat of silence echoed between them before Salim looked at him with a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. Are you hungry?”

Lucio shrugged and slowly nodded. “A little. Not a lot.” He looked up at Salim with soft eyes. “I’m good for right now.” The man frowned before sighing and looking away. “Lucio, you need to eat…” The blond looked sharply away, frowning and hunching over. Hiding. “‘m not hungry,” he mumbled. Salim sighed, but didn’t argue.

After a long moment, Salim quietly asked, “why did you cut yourself there? So Julian wouldn’t find out again?” Lucio felt himself pale, eyes darting over to a wall, swallowing heavily. His lack of answer seemed to be answer enough for Salim, who looked at him with deep pity. “Lucio,” he murmured, reaching out for him. The blond flailed away from him, flinching very obviously. It was clear he wasn’t used to people reaching out for him for totally normal and healthy reasons, and if Salim was honest, it freaked him out. He was so used to Lucio being powerful and strong and arrogant and a huge asshole that Lucio panicking and flinching and running away was terrifying. Instead, he lowered his hand and gave Lucio a sad look.

There was a long, tense moment before Lucio whispered, “please don’t tell him.” He was pleading, the words whining slightly. Salim nodded slowly, remaining still on the bed. “I promise,” he said softly. “I won’t tell Julian. I’ll make sure Aisha doesn’t either.” Lucio nodded and held himself best he could with one arm, eyes distant as he sunk back into memories. “Thanks…”

“Of course,” Salim replied. A longer moment before Salim stood back up, looking at Lucio a bit more firmly. “Go back to sleep,” he sighed. Lucio didn’t even argue, laying back down and curling up and going back to sleep.

Once he was snoring again, Salim sighed and turned towards the main room. He hoped Julian was having a better day than him. Because this day had just plain out sucked. He stood before walking out to his wife with open arms, intending on explaining to her the events of the day, and, with any luck, how to help both Julian and Lucio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this chapter was hard, for whatever reason. It's why it's so short... Anyways.
> 
> I turn 22 this Thursday. I'm excited bc apparently I'm gettin' some decent gifts from friendos, and I'm excited for them and just... I'm excited for what I'm going to get, not exactly my actual birthday ;v; ain't that sad? Anyways... we're workin' on gettin' there.


	25. Borderlines and Just Plain Borders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets yelled at by his sister a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO FINALLY! NEW CHAPTER! WHOO!  
> I have a couple written and being worked on, but I FINALLY did it. However, I also don't think Imma push myself for the once a week like before. I'm going to try to do every two or so weeks. At least once a month. Give myself time to relax.  
> I'll explain why I think a HUGE PART of my energy died for a few months in the A/N at the end.

Julian stormed down the hall towards an exit. He didn’t know why Lucio’s silence pissed him off so much. Maybe it was the fact that it still felt like he was deflecting everything Julian said. That all he cared about was himself. That he didn’t actually  _ care…! _ Or maybe he did, and Lucio’s sudden affection and openness was  _ scaring _ Julian. He paused, taken aback by his own thought process. Julian had grown more open with him too… A lot, actually. Enough that if someone, even now, told him that he had to pick between sleeping alone or sleeping with Lucio, he’d pick the latter in a heartbeat. Which…

Okay, no, the man was growing on him and it was pissing him off. He didn’t just  _ like _ new Lucio, he  _ loved him _ . And that was an issue. Even ignoring the fact that Lucio was supposed to be his patient, he felt… stuck. Like he couldn’t move on beyond what Lucio had done. Like he’d get right up the edge point, that knife’s edge, but then be dragged back. He wondered if his own frustrations weren’t rubbing off onto Lucio. He stopped dead in his tracks at that thought.

God, what if  _ he _ wasn’t the one changing? And he was frustrated at himself, and  _ wanting _ to see Lucio like that again? Angry and petty and just… well.  _ Lucio. _ Not… whatever this way. He groaned as he dropped his head, running his hands through his hair. That… would explain a lot, actually. Why Lucio had been getting on his nerves, why he’d been so frustrated with him recently, why he’d been upset and confused as to Lucio’s new perspectives on life. Which was odd, because he normally  _ liked _ to see people change and grow. Why was Lucio the exception?

He huffed a sigh as he stood up straight and made way through the Palace. He  _ needed _ to talk to Pasha. Or Muriel. Or both, actually. Nadia still seemed to have a grudge against him, or at least a bias, and asking Asra to even  _ think _ about talking about Lucio was an idea that nearly sent Julian back on his ass in recoil. No. He would not even  _ dare _ to think that. Asra would kill him.

The door wasn’t too far away, and he pushed out open into the warm sunshine. God, how was it only noon? It felt like a lot later. Maybe closer to fourteen hundred. Oh well. He still trudged out of the Palace, passing by some servants. Most of them gave him a short wave and soft smile, though a couple yelped and ducked behind the older workers. They were quickly chewed out, though Julian decided he didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out what was said.

He would normally get lost on the way to Portia’s cottage. In fact, he was starting to, until a small peep followed by a short, quiet, curt bark backed it up. He turned in surprise, finding Pepi sitting between the two hounds, looking smug as per usual. Mercedes and Melchior were silent, staring at him with their mis-colored eyes. And, even more to his surprise, the wolf, Inanna, if he remembered correctly, was directly behind them, all four staring at him. Pepi walked up and peeped at him again, standing on her two, little front paws on his boot. He bent down and scratched behind her ears, giving a painfully soft smile. “Hello there,” he murmured, giggling as she rubbed against his hand. After a beat of this, she pulled away and started to walk against the tree line, pausing after a few steps to look behind her and peep again. The dogs followed her. Or, well, two of them did. Inanna came up right behind him and seemed to bring up the rear.

If Julian didn’t know any better, he’d say that he’d just gotten caged in by animals. He chuckled awkwardly and started to follow, occasionally feeling Inanna bump into the back of his legs. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were taking me hostage,” he tried to joke, though given the flat look he could see on the hounds and  _ feel _ on the wolf, he’d say it fell flat. So, instead, he shut up and followed Pepi along the tree line and into the woods that divided Portia’s cottage with the rest of the Palace grounds.

He hated ducking around the branches, and stepping over roots and brambles, dodging around the twigs that threatened to cut him. He cursed and swore at them, grumbling as he finally reached the edge of the clearing her cottage was in. He sighed in relief, even doubling over to catch his breath for a second. Once he had, he glared at the small, still peeping cat in front of him. “Pepi, what the fuck.” He stood up and stretched. “You couldn’t have found me an actual  _ path? _ ” All four animals gave him a flat look, as if to say, “do we look like we care?”

He huffed in annoyance at them, dusting the branches and leaves off him. He was going to kill these animals, he swore to God. Instead of doing that, he strode up to the cottage that sat happily on the property. He could  _ smell _ the myrrh from outside, which told him that yes, yes Muriel was there. Good. He could talk to them both at the same time, see what they both thought about it. Some of the plants attempted to touch him, though he kicked them off. Normally, he would be much softer with them, be polite and kind. But he didn’t feel like that right now. He was… he wasn’t mad, he was… anxious. Unsure. Leaving him twitchy and snappy.

He marched up the steps to the door of the cottage, pausing as he raised his hand to knock on Portia’s door. He stood there for a moment before lowering his hand, thinking. God, Muriel was here too. He’d probably tear him apart. Not that Julian could blame him, he’d been a huge dick to Lucio. God… he hoped Lucio was okay. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if it turned out he’d hurt Lucio  _ again _ . He sighed, criticising himself for a while before raising his hand again, about to knock, before stopping again. And then raised. And then dropped. Over and over. For a solid while, until he raised his hand, went to knock-

And it opened, revealing a frazzled Portia inside. She was in her normal Palace clothes, but her hair was down, curling around her like a mane of fire. She gave her brother an exasperated look. As if to say, “really? We’re doing this now?” She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, flat look on her face. “Why are you here now?”

“Because I wanted to visit you?” He asked, voice rising in pitch as he was unsure if he was welcome. “Because I just left Lucio’s room? Like, as of right now?”

“You just left Lucio’s room.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he was pissing me off but now I’m not sure if he was honestly pissing me off or if I cannot let go of the past and I’m pissing myself off and putting it onto him.”

Portia stared at him openly, eyes wide. After a long beat, she moved out of the way, allowing her brother inside, clearly in shock. Julian ducked his head and nodded his thanks as he walked inside. Muriel was there, sitting at the table, eating some pastries that Portia either made or snagged from the kitchen. If anything, the large man seemed surprised to see Julian. “I… didn’t know you were here,” he mumbled, clearly on edge. “I-I’ll go…”

“No,” Julian said quickly, grabbing another chair and dragging it over to the table, sitting down in it heavily once he did. “Stay. I need to talk to you too.” Muriel and Portia shared a skeptical, worried look. This was new. And worrisome. After a long beat of deadly silence, Julian sighed. “I… Lucio annoyed me.”   
“How did he annoy you?” Portia asked, eyebrow quirking up high. Julian groaned and threw his hands out, clearly annoyed with the entire situation. “I don’t know! I just didn’t respond when he said he’d never lied to me about shit! And the problem is that he hasn’t with certain things, but I just…” He growled and ran his hands through his hair, head tipped back and staring up into nothing. “I don’t know. I feel like he’s hiding things from me.” He slowly peeked out from his arms, gray eyes distant. “I just… I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. That much was true. All he knew was that he was annoyed by Lucio, just as much as he was growing to adore him. Portia sat down in her chair previous, watching him closely. Muriel remained seated, awkward and unsure of what to do. Another painfully long pause before Julian sighed. “I’m stressed, alright? The Plague’s coming back, Lucio’s  _ apparently _ started self-harming again, and I just feel like he’s hiding something from me…”

“Not that I can blame him,” Muriel finally chimed in, deep voice rough and grating. He’d probably either been yelling all night, or just woke up. “You’ve been acting like kind of a dick to him. May I remind you, just two weeks ago, he ran out into a wheat field, bleeding profusely, because you  _ yelled _ at him.” Muriel sipped his tea and watched as Portia glared at him. “You  _ what _ ,” she grated out, hands on her hips, snarl forming on her face. Julian ducked his head down, about to answer before Muriel beat him to the punch. “Lucio and Julian came to my house about two weeks ago, a day or two after Lucio stabbed himself in the thigh, I’d guess. Well, we had a nice cup of tea, Lucio was getting on my own nerves, Julian yelled at him for harming himself, and Lucio ran.”

Portia growled in annoyance, walking away and running her hands through her hair, sending the already wild curls into more disarray. “Ilya, what the  _ fuck _ ,” she whirled to him, snarling full on now, “is  _ wrong _ with you?” Julian raised his hands in surrender, looking… disappointed in himself and terrified of her. She wouldn’t take it sitting down. Or standing up, either. “You  _ know _ how sensitive he is right now! That was so beyond fucking  _ stupid…! _ ” She suddenly paused, an idea crossing through her mind in a split second like lightning.

For a long beat, she just leaned on the table and stared ahead at the wall, the painting there. Julian and Muriel watched her, the former’s breath caught in his throat while the latter just casually sipped his tea. She eventually clicked her tongue before slowly looking at her brother, eyes alight with something akin to hatred and rage. “You’re probably the reason he stabbed himself in the first place.” Muriel looked over at Julian, still surprisingly calm. Julian honestly just wanted to crawl out of his skin, but forced himself to nod. “Y-yes…”

“God _ DAMNIT _ , Ilya!” She shouted, pushing away from the table and putting her hands back into her hair. It was a beat of her seething before she turned back to him, eyes alight. “What the  _ fuck _ is  _ wrong with you? _ ” She repeated, storming forward and lurching over him, a slight tremble of rage through her body. She… looked like their mother, with what little Julian remembered of her. Enough that he cowarded down away from her, giving her the most apologetic look he could. “First, you upset him enough he hurts himself, then you do it  _ again _ accidentally!” She put her hands on her hips. “What made you yell at him in the first place?!”

“H-he went to the Raven without telling me,” he managed. “H-he was just randomly…  _ gone _ , and it worried me! I got so pissed that I yelled at him but I stayed with him that night as long as he let me! He eventually told me to get out after having a panic attack!”

“And you  _ listened _ to him?!” Portia’s eyes grew more intense, and Julian was suddenly struck by the image of their mother again. “Julian, you should’ve  _ stayed _ there with him! Not just left him there to basically die!”

“I  _ didn’t _ !” He snapped, glaring up at her, finally finding his voice again. “I stayed with him as long as I could! If I forced myself to stay there, he probably would’ve gotten more pissed!”

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Muriel said suddenly, startling both siblings enough they jumped. Both red-heads turned their heads to him, watching him closely. Muriel sipped his tea for another beat, body facing the opposite wall Portia was facing, looking away from them. Yet another beat passed by before his jade green eyes flicked over to them. “We both have seen a decline in Lucio. Mostly in his emotional state, but his physical is also failing. He’s become more depressed, and we both know that if you had stayed, he wouldn’t have fought you on it.”

Julian sunk back into his chair, thoroughly beat. He knew he was right. And hated that he was. “I…” He had no defense, none that wouldn’t just make him sound like more of an asshole. He turned and put his elbows on the table, putting his face into his hands. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Portia snorted and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “No shit,” she sneered before glaring at him again. “I want you  _ out of my cottage _ and in Lucio’s room, asap!” She grabbed her brother’s hand and yanked him up before shoving him out of the cottage. “Out! Out out out!” Once he was out the door, she pointed towards the Palace. “And, if he’s not there, I want you to go to Aisha and Salim. Do something  _ nice _ for the man, Jesus Christ…”

He turned to her, sheepish before, “c-can I come back? If he’s not there?” She glared at him before, “no. You cannot.” She pointed to the Palace again, clearly not letting him stay. He stepped back a couple more paces before the door slammed shut in his face, leaving him flinching. He stared at it for a little while before sighing heavily and going back to the Palace. This… was going to be hard.

When he arrived back at Lucio’s room, the door was opened. It honestly made him panic, the lack of being in there something out of his nightmares. He looked around, half expecting to see nothing, except... 

The bathroom door was open. And the light was still on. He walked over, trepidation clear in his steps, before stopping right before the doorway. Did he  _ want _ to look inside? He probably should. Another long beat of him cowering at the doorway before he finally peeked inside. There was… nothing. Nothing but pure white marble and a drop of blood. Wait. A drop of blood? That was…

He frowned, walking over to it. It wasn’t hard to see the few remaining streaks of it, now that he was looking for the bright red. Whatever had happened had only happened within the past day, if not the last few hours. He knelt down and ran his finger through it, testing the viscosity of it. Within the last two, given how it stretched. He looked around, surprised to find more, before he spotted it. A small dagger, barely as big as his forearm, safely hidden and thrown away, the blood still dripping slightly from it’s blade. It didn’t take too much effort to realize what it was, and he sighed as he carefully picked it up. The blade was very well taken care of, and he could’ve sworn that-

Oh. this was… “Montag’s dagger,” he murmured, more to himself. He recognized it was one of the weapons he’d taken off his body during the war. It was… just as beautiful now as it was then. He reached up and removed his eyepatch, shoving the offending cloth into his pocket. He Stood up, taking the dagger to the sink and washing the blood off. He’d finished cleaning up, as whoever did it before had clearly been in a rush. The blade let the blood slough off easily, and it was satisfying to watch the water go from brightly stained red to clear. He did it for a second longer than needed, appreciating it, before removing it from the water. It… needed to be sharpened, if he were honest. The blade was slightly duller than he’d prefer, for any reason. So, with that, he went out to find the sharpening tools that Lucio used.

Once he found them, he returned to his usual chair, the large, comfortable club chair Lucio had in his room, right in front of his desk. Julian kicked his feet up, putting the tools and the dagger in his lap, and set to work. It was a mindless task, swiping the stones over the blade again and again, the soft scraping of the different elements keeping his mind at ease.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sat there, cleaning the blade. After it was sharpened to a deadly point again, he’d found some wood polish and set about doing that. And then some metal polish. And then he had found its sheath, mostly leather, and started working on that. All he knew was that when the door started to open, he was surprised by it, starting and nicking himself on the blade. He hissed at the pain, flicking his hand and sucking on the wound, looking up at the door.

Lucio stood in the doorway, staring at him silently. His eyes flicked between the blade and Julian’s face, clearly distraught. After a very long, painfully silent moment, “I… I…” Julian raised a hand, telling him to remain silent. Once he was certain his finger had stopped bleeding, he put the knife on the desk and stood, walking over to Lucio with a soft expression on his face. “I… owe you an apology.”

“Get out.” Lucio’s words were deceptively quiet, rage edging each one. Julian blinked in surprise at that. “Wh-what…?”

“Get out!” Lucio repeated in a roar, grabbing Julian’s lapels and dragging him down to eye level. “You don’t get to decide when I get to fuckin’ talk to you.” This… this reminded him of old Lucio. Enough that his brain panicked between “Get the fuck out” and “kiss him to snap him out of it.” It managed to find the  _ worst _ possible option, and picked him up.

Lucio shrieked in surprise as Julian grabbed the back of his thighs and lifted him up, legs automatically wrapping around his waist to hold on, hands tightly around his shoulders. It… certainly put them at eye level, and it seemed to have startled Lucio out of whatever rage he had been in, the blond looking down at where he was being held. He even leaned back, testing Julian’s grip, before moving forward again. A long beat of silence passed over them before, “I uh… picked you up.” He was still processing it himself, surprised at his own actions.

Lucio raised an eyebrow, somewhere between unimpressed, before his face scrunched up and he started to giggle. “Oh my God.” He leaned forward, head somehow buried into Julian’s neck. The taller man grinned, adjusting so he was holding onto Lucio more solidly. “What?” Lucio’s laughter was increasing, shoulders shaking with it. It was just as infectious as before, Julian soon joining in with his own laughter. Lucio sat back, looking him in the eyes as he managed to wheeze out, “so your first response to me being mad now,” a second to laugh, “is to pick me up?” He shook his head, waving a hand before burying his face into Julian’s shoulder and laughing. “Oh my God…”

“What? It was a reflex!” Julian tried to defend himself before giving up and sitting on the bed. Lucio peeked his head out again, shaking it again. “I’m not a cat!”

“No, but you are a good boy.” That came out of nowhere, leaving Julian bright red as he realized what he said. It seemed to take Lucio a moment, still laughing before he realized Julian went silent. After a beat, he looked at him, half sneering as he asked, “what?” Once it had processed, his face pinked up a little. “O-oh…” His surprise melted into horny amusement. “Oh,” he repeated, a bit more drawn out and flirty. He tugged lightly on one of Julian’s lapels, a far cry from just a few minutes earlier. “What was that thing you wanted to apologize to me about?”

Julian flushed harder and swallowed. “R-right, of course.” He paused for a second, getting himself under control and clearing his throat. “I uh… wanted to apologize for how I’ve acted for the past couple of weeks.” Lucio perked up at that, surprised, and Julian continued. “I’ve… been abnormally cruel or not allowing you to grow. In my own, special, fucked up way. And I realized it’s because…” He paused and looked away, a frown on his face. “It’s because… I hadn’t changed much at all. And it…  _ scared me _ to see how far you’ve come.”

Lucio kept surprisingly quiet, and didn’t preen or make himself look better. Just watched silently. As if surprised by this. Julian kept on going. “And-and I realized that it wasn’t  _ you _ I was angry at. About. It was…” Another pause and more glum before he frowned at the floor, “it was me. I’d fallen in love with you, and I hadn’t changed to meet you where you were. Where you  _ are _ . And I was afraid of that. So I’m sorry.” He looked back to Lucio, expecting anger or something other than the confusion that littered his face. “Go back about… five steps,” Lucio said, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry for acting like an asshole?”

“No, before that.”

Julian flushed. “That I’m… in love with you.”

“Yes, that.” Lucio pointed at him, cocking his head. “You’re… in love with me,” he repeated, as if half expecting this to be a joke. When Julian nodded, as if Lucio had just stated the world’s most obvious and well known fact, the blond sat back in the red-head’s lap and just gave a soft, “huh.”

“Is…” Julian swallowed. “Is that alright? That I’m in love with you…?” He was still unsure where their lines were, as they’d been shifting so much recently he didn’t even  _ remember _ where the old lines  _ were _ . Lucio nodded, crossing his arms and thinking. “No, no, that’s fine.” He waved a hand before looking away. His eyes closed for a second, taking in a deep breath, before looking back at Julian, surprisingly serious. “Do you love me for me, or whatever vision you have of me?”

“How is it you always ask me hard questions?”

Lucio gave him a sharp grin, a soft chuckle emanating from his chest. “I dunno,” he admitted, “I just do.” He didn’t make any attempt to move or leave, though, thankfully. Instead, he just watched as Julian debate in his head. And what’s worse, as Julian debated between if he just liked the vision in his head and who Lucio  _ was _ , he realized that it was far more the latter than the former. “I just… love you for you,” he admitted softly, leaving Lucio awestruck. “What?”

“No, really,” Julian assured, raising a hand. “Look, you were… an  _ utter asshole _ in your past life, but you’re clearly working on it, and I just…” He paused, playing with his fingers before sighing and looking at him. “I’ve been jealous of your growth. You’re becoming a good, and possibly great, man Lucio.” He took the blond’s hands in his own, flipping them over before raising the flesh one to his lips and hovering them just a hair’s breadth away. “And I… love that. It reminds me of when I first met you.”

Lucio’s eyebrow raised at that. “When you first met me, or when you first met-”

“Montag,” Julian finished, finally pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I… I think I would’ve grown to like Montag.” He felt more than saw Lucio’s entire posture change, softening, leaving him somewhat weak on his lap. “Could you have, now…?” Lucio’s voice as he asked a soft rumble, and Julian nodded, flipping Lucio’s hand over again before kissing his palm. “Undoubtedly. He was very nice.”

Lucio felt his heart pound in his chest. If he was going back to that… That was a good thing, right? He’d honestly  _ missed _ being Montag. Being Lucio was exhausting. It  _ sucked _ , a lot. And maybe he could win back more people. He liked the name Lucio, so maybe he could keep that, but just… let more of himself through. Maybe dress a bit less gaudy, make it easier for other people to… To hell with it. He was going to dress the way he Goddamned wanted to.

He was careful to hook his fingers under Julian’s jaw, gently encouraging him to look up at him. “I… thank you,” he murmured before knocking their foreheads together. “If it’s any consolation, I like you too.” Julian giggled against him before wrapping both arms around him and holding him close. After a beat, he opened his eyes and looked at him somberly. “Do… do you think you could love me…?” Lucio was honestly caught off guard with the question, enough that his mouth went faster than his brain as he replied with,

“I already do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! A bit of an explanation: I was still in the midst of moving, and just... put it shortly? A whole lotta drama went down between my two main friend groups. One of the friends was outed as a creep, two within the friend group got together and then had a very, VERY messy breakup that we're still dealing with the aftermath of, and then on TOP of that, one my best friends for the good part of the year? Yea, I realized she'd been manipulating and abusing me, and another two of my friends.  
> So it was... a whole deal. Enough of a mess that I've been exhausted. But! I'm better now, and getting better. So it's... nice to be back. But on top of all of that, I had... a lotta burn out. Trying to do a chapter a week? Nearly fuckin' killed me with everything going on. So, yea. Two weeks per chapter instead of one.  
> Still, I'm glad to be back!


	26. The Hound and the Crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting admissions ahoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but! It's nice and cute.

That confession knocked both of them back on their figurative asses. They both stared at each other like they were the most unique and confusing thing in the world. And, to some extent, they were. Both were having to learn entirely new sides of the other, let alone themselves. So it was no surprise when Julian stammered out, “y-you do?”

Lucio nodded, surprisingly sure even as his eyes darted away. “I-I’m sure…” He looked down, very quiet as he said, “I don’t know why… but I’m sure.” His hands were still loosely over Julian’s shoulders, more there for the contact than anything else. It was comforting. “Being in your lap is comforting.” He didn’t even realize he’d said it aloud until Julian sputtered into a laugh, shoulders shaking from the force of it. “I’m glad to know I’m comfortable!”

Julian’s arms wrapped around his waist more comfortably, dragging him forward into a hug. “You’re comfortable too.” He tilted his head and nuzzled against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping him. It was… honestly, like holding a giant teddy bear. Just warmer, less fuzzy, and with a heartbeat. There was a pause before Lucio wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders again, pressing him close, his cheek against his hair. “I’m glad…”

There was a long moment of silence, perfect and content, before the door slammed open. The last time that happened, Portia was panicking about the Plague. Both men jumped and twisted towards the door, Lucio squawking as he nearly fell off Julian’s lap. The taller man  _ barely _ caught him, Lucio’s head only inches away from the floor before Julian’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist. They both looked up, expecting Portia once more. Instead, Nadia stood in the doorway, staring at them like they both had grown new heads.

She blinked rapidly, head shaking slightly before she looked at them again. The boys looked back, Julian flushing a bright red that rivaled his hair, and Lucio blanching to a paleness that rivaled his clothes. There was a long, painfully long, moment where there was nothing said. Just Julian holding onto Lucio, Lucio’s hands held close to Julian’s chest, and Nadia’s hand on the doorknob. It was truly awkward, mostly because of the conversations everyone had had at some point did not show this as an outcome. After the silence seemed to echo in all of their skulls, Nadia cleared her throat. “I see you two are erm…  _ busy _ right now. I’ll…” She looked away, back into the hallway. “I’ll come back later.” She closed the door softly behind her, clearly unsure how to process what she had just saw.

Julian and Lucio remained still, as if afraid she’d open the door in a rage, waiting to see what she did. Her heels clicking down the hall told them both they could release the breath they had been holding. And the second the clicking was fully gone, they did. Julian let himself flop over Lucio for a second before bringing him back up into his lap, smiling at him. “Well. That was a thing.”

Lucio stared at him for a split second before laughing, lurching forward and pressing his face into Julian’s shoulder. “What the fuck do you  _ mean _ , “that was a thing?” Of  _ course _ it was a thing!” He shook his head and pulled back to look at him again. “I cannot believe Nadia almost walked in on us doing something a  _ lot _ worse than me falling off your lap.”

“Would you rather she found us fucking instead?” Julian asked, voice drenched in a teasing tone. He leaned forward, an eyebrow raised a smirk on his lips, as if encouraging him to say yes. Lucio snorted and rolled his eyes, grabbing the sides of Julian’s face and squishing, shaking his head, watching as Julian made a grumbling noise, as if he  _ wasn’t _ grinning and trying to kiss him. He pressed their foreheads together, stopping his shaking to look him in the eyes. “I love you, Julian,” he murmured, nuzzling against his face.

The noise Julian made in agreement was adorable, and he wanted to hear that a million times over, followed quickly by, “I love you too.” It left Lucio trembling and weak, his stomach doing flips as he kissed him. He was surprised when Julian returned the kisses, his hands going up from his waist to his hair and tangling there. This was… nice. He adored those long fingers in his hair, the nails slightly digging in, claiming him. He couldn’t help himself as his throat let out a low groan. It felt deep and natural and…

Much as he wanted to possibly have sex. The idea of sex was too… tiring, for once. Lucio pulled away, looking down and away. “I… I can’t…” He shook his head softly, voice almost cracking. Julian’s pained and worried expression said it all, mostly wondering if he’d fucked up, but Lucio shook his head, holding up his flesh hand. “It’s not… it’s not you,” he assured.

“Then what is it?” Julian took the hand, holding it between both of his, a thumb swiping over the knuckles of it. He still had his gloves on, and that… For some reason, Lucio didn’t like it. It still felt too distant, like there was a barrier between the both of them. He tugged on the edge of one, eyes soft before they darted up to Julian. “Take them off? Please?”

Julian stiffened, clearly unsure about it, before sighing in defeat. It was clearly an exercise in trust, and, surprisingly, he trusted him. He was careless when removing the glove on his right hand, though slowed on his left, unsure. In fact, his hands started to tremble at the idea of removing it. Lucio was endlessly confused until he remembered, right. Julian was accused of his murder all those years ago. He was probably… “Branded,” he murmured aloud, platinum eyes staring at Julian’s left hand. The red-head nodded stiffly, a bit shaky.

Lucio held his hand out for Julian’s. “May I?” The doctor looked between their hands for a long while before sighing and nodding. “Yes. Please.” Lucio nodded as he took Julian’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, a reverse of their positions just a second earlier. He carefully grabbed the tip of the glove, and started to slowly remove it. Painfully slowly, it slid off his hand, more and more of his practically bone white skin revealed. Once it was all, finally off, Lucio stared at the back of his hand. And, lo and behold, there was the murderer’s brand. It… hurt to see it there. A lot. And not even in a vaguely fun way.

It made him feel sick. That Julian was accused of something he didn’t do. That he had to take punishment for a crime he didn’t do. And that he’d been lucky to escape for three years. And to now get off of it, scott free. Or, well, mostly scott free. He would always have this branding. Lucio raised his hands up, pressing a soft kiss to the center of it, trembling slightly. This… God… He couldn’t imagine how much pain and suffering Julian had went through to get this. Because while it just  _ looked _ like a normal tattoo, it wasn’t. The “ink” was a special type of poison that Lucio himself had helped develop. It would cause the person an insane amount of pain as it was being inked in, which would hopefully encourage them to shriek and scream and “confess” to their sins. He hadn’t gone through it himself, but… if Jules had…

“I’m so... “ His voice broke at that. Julian looked up at him, mismatched eyes surprised. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Jules… You never deserved this,” he rubbed a thumb over his hand before raising a hand to cup Julian’s cheek, carefully going over his eyebrow. “Or this…” It… He felt like the monument to his fuck ups. A physical depiction of everything he’d survived. Of Lucio and of Montag. Of every part of him that he loved and hated in equal measure. And just… it all hurt. “I’m so sorry… I fucked everything up, and destroyed your life fifty times over and you just…” He frowned, nearly scowling at the bed spread below them, confused and angry. “You just keep letting me back in! Why?!” He nearly shrieked before all of a sudden… all of his anger faded.

He looked up at Julian with soft, earnest, pleading eyes, voice painfully soft as he asked, “why…? Why  _ me? _ ”

Julian sighed heavily, shifting back and bringing Lucio with him. Holding onto him and kissing between his eyes softly. “I… because I love you,” he murmured. “And as for why I love you, I don’t know why. I should have  _ every _ right to hate you. You’ve hurt me, you’ve hurt those I’ve cared about, you’ve been borderline abusive, you’ve been honestly terrible, but…” He pulled back, eyes looking down before flicking up to Lucio. “I realized… you didn’t  _ do _ any of the more terrible things… Did you?” His eyes searched Lucio’s intent on getting the answer.

Lucio blanched and flinched a little at that before sitting back and sighing. “I… I-I… no,” he confirmed quietly. “I… don’t believe I did.” He did  _ some _ of them, yes. He was not entirely guiltless. But as for the major ones? “I don’t remember a lot of the actual city takeovers… nor do I remember putting Muriel in the Coliseum. Well,” he paused for a beat before sighing, “I remember that… but I also remember not being in control, being slowly drowned in inky red darkness, and screaming and begging for them to be left alone. And beyond that…'' He shook his head. “Nothin’. I don’t even know what happened after that. All I know is that a few years later, turns out, Muriel was in the Coliseum. And it was, apparently, my fault.” He looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “It was almost like bein’ asleep, yanno? I couldn’t exactly  _ stop it _ , which sucked…”

Julian nodded. Even if he didn’t fully understand the horrors and tortures that Lucio went through, he could appreciate the trauma it’d clearly caused. Given how… broken he was. The stabbing himself, the running, God… Julian didn’t even  _ want _ to think about the idea that he’d been forced to constantly sedate Lucio to keep him under. Mostly because he knew he’d wake up and panic and end up opening up his stitches again. Still… “Do you… do you remember what happened? All those years ago?” Julian’s eyes darted over to his arm, swallowing. “Did… Was he…?”

Lucio figured out his question before he could stammer it out. “ _ Ah. _ No…” He said quietly, looking at his golden arm. “No, not as far as I’m aware of. He was a…  _ later _ addition to my life,” he said, flexing the golden fingers. A far later addition. After he’d gained Vesuvia as a whole. Which, that’d been a mess. He really should’ve gone about that better, instead of the-

He gasped in surprise before moaning and melting into the sudden kiss Julian had caught him in. It seemed that Julian had realized he was spiralling, and stopped him before it got too far. And, if this was how that was going to be fixed, he could not say he was against it. He leaned back, grabbing onto Julian’s shirt and dragging him back, Julian over him now. This was… put it shortly, comfortable. Put it another way, it made him take the statement he’d made earlier back. “I changed my mind,” Lucio gasped. “I want to have sex.”

Julian stopped, pulling back to look down at Lucio with an odd expression. “But you said earlier-”

“Yes, yes, I know what I said earlier,” Lucio snapped, even as he fumbled with the buttons on Julian’s shirt. “And I’ve changed my mind. I want to have sex, I… I-I…” He paused and swallowed awkwardly, voice high and thin as he admitted, “I want to be adored… for me.” It hurt to say, but in a way that was clearly healthy. Like he could breathe again, after such a long moment. “Not Lucio but…”

“But not Montag, either,” Julian finished, looking at him seriously, deeply. As if he could see past all of his faults. Lucio nodded and swallowed again, fingers digging into Julian’s shoulders a little. Flexing, as if he could push and claw this all away, but not wanting to. “You just want to be you.”

“If that’s alright?” Lucio asked quickly, focus sharply returning to Julian. “I-I would like that… to not be seen as anyone but me.” He was clearly waiting for Julian to say no, to be one or the other. His slowly flinching away told Julian that, and it… hurt. But still… The taller man smiled and leaned down and kissed his cheek softly. “I’d love that,” he answered, carefully wrapping his arms around Lucio and holding him close. “And I’m honored you think of me as trustworthy enough as that.”

Lucio’s face went a bright red, shocked, before breaking out into giggles. “I-I… okay. Yea… okay, good.” His giggles didn’t stop, even as Julian kissed him again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to throw this here: To Prince Malak, the absolute MAD LAD who's commented on basically every single chapter (if not every single chapter) and supported me through all of this with just their comments alone, and also seems to stalk Ao3 to support Arcana fan fic artists, thank you, my guy. For the support, for the comments, and just... Yea. Thank you. And I hope you keep enjoying what I put out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! If you wanna find me, I'm on basically everything under AdrianExists. Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Tiktok, etc. I hope you all liked it, and I will be writing this more (instead of abandoning it like all my past fics, asldkfn).


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